Romeo and Juliet (excerpts): The earth that’s Nature’s mother is her tomb

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The earth that's Nature's mother is her tomb;What is her burying grave, that is her womb;And from her womb children of divers kindWe sucking on her natural bosom find:Many for many virtues excellent,None but for some, and yet all different.O, mickle is the powerful grace that liesIn plants, herbs, stones, and their true qualities,For naught so vile that on the earth doth liveBut to the earth some special good doth give.Nor aught so good but, strain'd from that fair use,Revolts from true birth, stumbling on abuse.Virtue itself turns vice being misapplied,And vice sometimes by action's dignified.Within the infant rind of this small flowerPoison hath residence, and medicine power;For this, being smelt, with that part cheers each part,Being tasted, slays all senses with the heart.Two such opposed kings encamp them still,In man as well as herbs: grace and rude will.And where the worser is predominant,Full soon the canker death eats up that plant.

© William Shakespeare