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A Good Leg Will Fall; A Straight Back Will Stoop; A Black Beard Will Turn White; A Curl'd Pate Will Grow Bald; A Fair Face Will Wither; A Full Eye Will Wax Hollow: But A Good Heart, Kate, Is The Sun And The Moon; Or, Rather, The Sun, And Not The Moon, — For It Shines Bright, And Never Changes, But Keeps His Course Truly.

-William Shakespeare

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A Good Leg Will

William Shakespeare

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A Good Leg Will Fall; A Straight Back Will Stoop; A Black Beard Will Turn White; A Curl'd Pate Will Grow Bald; A Fair Face Will Wither; A Full Eye Will Wax Hollow: But A Good Heart, Kate, Is The Sun And The Moon; Or, Rather, The Sun, And Not The Moon, — For It Shines Bright, And Never Changes, But Keeps His Course Truly.

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More From William Shakespeare

By-and-by Is Easily Said.

Hear My Soul Speak. Of The Very Instant That I Saw You, Did My Heart Fly At Your Service

Better Be With The Dead, Whom We To Gain Our Peace, Have Sent To Peace, Than On The Torture Of The Mind To Lie In Restless Ecstasy.

Thus We Play The Fool With The Time And The Spirits Of The Wise Sit In The Clouds And Mock Us.

I Am A Feather For Each Wind That Blows

I'll Make My Heaven In A Lady's Lap

Do Not Banish Reason For Inequality; But Let Your Reason Serve To Make The Truth Appear Where It Seems Hid, And Hide The False Seems True.

Nimble Thought Can Jump Both Sea And Land.

Abate The Edge Of Traitors, Gracious Lord, That Would Reduce These Bloody Days Again And Make Poor England Weep In Streams Of Blood! Let Them Not Live To Taste This Land's Increase That Would With Treason Wound This Fair Land's Peace! Now Civil Wounds Are Stopped, Peace Lives Again: That She May Long Live Here, God Say Amen!

Ambition's Debt Is Paid.

What Win I, If I Gain The Thing I Seek? A Dream, A Breath, A Froth Of Fleeting Joy. Who Buys A Minute's Mirth To Wail A Week? Or Sells Eternity To Get A Toy? For One Sweet Grape Who Will The Vine Destroy? Or What Fond Beggar, But To Touch The Crown, Would With The Sceptre Straight Be Strucken Down?

I Do Know When The Blood Burns, How Prodigal The Soul Lends The Tongue Vows.

What Early Tongue So Sweet Saluteth Me?

Romeo And Juliet Play

O, Full Of Scorpions Is My Mind!

You Are A Tedious Fool.

My Charity Is Outrage, Life My Shame; And In That Shame Still Live My Sorrow's Rage!

Nothing 'gainst Times Scythe Can Make Defence.

The Golden Age Is Before Us, Not Behind Us.

What Seest Thou Else In The Dark Backward And Abysm Of Time?

He Is Winding The Watch Of His Wit; By And By It Will Strike.

I Am As True As Truth's Simplicity, And Simpler Than The Infancy Of Truth.

Hear Me Profess Sincerely: Had I A Dozen Sons, Each In My Love Alike, And None Less Dear Than Thine And My Good Marcius, I Had Rather Have Eleven Die Nobly For Their Country Than One Voluptuously Surfeit Out Of Action.

A Little Water Clears Us Of This Deed.

All Hoods Make Not Monks.

Holy, Fair, And Wise Is She; The Heaven Such Grace Did Lend Her, That She Might Admired Be.

Give Thy Thoughts No Tongue.

The Jury Passing On The Prisoner's Life May In The Sworn Twelve Have A Thief Or Two Guiltier Than Him They Try.

Have More Than Thou Showest, Speak Less Than Thou Knowest, Lend Less Than Thou Owest.

I Will Make Thee Think Thy Swan A Crow.

The Lunatic, The Lover, And The Poet, Are Of Imagination All Compact.

Imagination Creativity

See, What A Ready Tongue Suspicion Hath! He That But Fears The Thing He Would Not Know, Hath, By Instinct, Knowledge From Others' Eyes, That What He Feared Is Chanced.

A Contract Of Eternal Bond Of Love, Confirm'd By Mutual Joinder Of Your Hands, Arrested By The Holy Close Of Lips, Strength'ned By The Interchangement Of Your Rings, And All The Ceremony Of This Compact Seal'd In My Function, By My Testimony.

I Drink To The General Joy O’ The Whole Table." Macbeth

Poor Wretches That Depend On Greatness' Favor, Dream As I Have Done; Wake, And Find Nothing.

To Take Arms Against A Sea Of Troubles.

How Oft The Sight Of Means To Do Ill Deeds Makes Ill Deeds Done!

You Are Made Rather To Wonder At The Things You Hear Than To Work Any.

Be Not Thy Tongue Thy Own Shame's Orator.

At Christmas, I No More Desire A Rose.

There Is A Willow Grows Aslant A Brook, That Shows His Hoar Leaves In The Glassy Stream; There With Fantastic Garlands Did She Come Of Crow-flowers, Nettles, Daisies, And Long Purples That Liberal Shepherds Give A Grosser Name, But Our Cold Maids Do Dead Men's Fingers Call Them: There, On The Pendent Boughs Her Coronet Weeds Clambering To Hang, An Envious Sliver Broke; When Down Her Weedy Trophies And Herself Fell In The Weeping Brook.

This Act Is An Ancient Tale New Told; And, In The Last Repeating, Troublesome, Being Urged At A Time Unseasonable.

Many A True Word Hath Been Spoken In Jest.

It Is Meant That Noble Minds Keep Ever With Their Likes; For Who So Firm That Cannot Be Seduced.

Let's All Cry Peace, Freedom, And Liberty!

Ill Met By Moonlight, Proud Titania

So Many Horrid Ghosts.

Yet Do I Fear Thy Nature; It Is Too Full O' The Milk Of Human Kindness To Catch The Nearest Way: Thou Wouldst Be Great; Art Not Without Ambition, But Without The Illness Should Attend It: What Thou Wouldst Highly, That Wouldst Thou Holily; Wouldst Not Play False, And Yet Wouldst Wrongly Win.

What I Have Done Is Yours; What I Have To Do Is Yours; Being Part In All I Have, Devoted Yours.

Time ... Thou Ceaseless Lackey To Eternity.

A Wild Dedication Of Yourselves To Undiscovered Waters, Undreamed Shores.

I Do Know Of These That Therefore Only Are Reputed Wise For Saying Nothing.

Then Hate Me When Thou Wilt, If Ever, Now.

The Latter End Of A Fray, And The Beginning Of A Feast, Fits A Dull Fighter, And A Keen Guest.

The Poor World Is Almost Six Thousand Years Old, And In All This Time There Was Not Any Man Died In His Own Person, Videlicet, In A Love-cause.

My Nature Is Subdued To What It Works In, Like The Dyer's Hand.

Don't Waste Your Love On Somebody, Who Doesn't Value It.

Mirth Cannot Move A Soul In Agony.

The Moon Shines Bright. In Such A Night As This. When The Sweet Wind Did Gently Kiss The Trees And They Did Make No Noise, In Such A Night.

My Love Is As A Fever, Longing Still.

A Heavier Task Could Not Have Been Impos'd, Than I To Speak My Griefs Unspeakable.

Unless Hours Were Cups Of Sack, And Minutes Capons, And Clocks The Tongues Of Bawds, And Dials The Signs Of Leaping-houses, And The Blessed Sun Himself A Fair Hot Wench In Flame-colored Taffeta, I See No Reason Why Thou Shouldst Be So Superfluous To Demand The Time Of The Day.

Lady, With Me, With Me Thy Fortune Lies.

He That Commends Me To Mine Own Content Commends Me To The Thing I Cannot Get. I To The World Am Like A Drop Of Water That In The Ocean Seeks Another Drop, Who, Falling There To Find His Fellow Forth, Unseen, Inquisitive, Confounds Himself: So I, To Find A Mother And A Brother, In Quest Of Them, Unhappy, Lose Myself.

Faster Than Spring-time Showers Comes Thought On Thought.

From Women's Eyes This Doctrine I Derive: They Sparkle Still The Right Promethean Fire; They Are The Books, The Arts, The Academes, That Show, Contain And Nourish All The World.

Thou Art The Best O' The Cut-throats

The Time Of Life Is Short; To Spend That Shortness Basely Were Too Long.

Shortness Of Life

Better A Little Chiding Than A Great Deal Of Heartbreak.

There Are No Tricks In Plain And Simple Faith.

We, Ignorant Of Ourselves, Beg Often Our Own Harms, Which The Wise Powers Deny Us For Our Good; So Find We Profit By Losing Of Our Prayers.

Opinion, A Sovereign Mistress Of Effects.

I'll Be At Charges For A Looking-glass And Entertain A Score Or Two Of Tailors To Study Fashions To Adorn My Body: Since I Am Crept In Favor With Myself, I Will Maintain It With Some Little Cost.

Smooth Runs The Water Where The Brook Is Deep.

Now Join Your Hands, And With Your Hands Your Hearts.

England, Bound In With The Triumphant Sea, Whose Rocky Shore Beats Back The Envious Siege Of Watery Neptune.

Boldness Be My Friend.

To Kill, I Grant, Is Sin's Extremest Gust; But, In Defence, By Mercy, 'tis Most Just.

The Loyalty, Well Held To Fools, Does Make Our Faith Mere Folly.

Beware Of Entrance To A Quarrel; But Being In, Bear't That The Opposed May Beware Of Thee. Give Every Man Thy Ear, But Few Thy Voice; Take Each Man's Censure, But Reserve Thy Judgment. Costly Thy Habit As Thy Purse Can Buy, But Not Express'd In Fancy; Rich, Not Gaudy; For The Apparel Oft Proclaims The Man.

For Mine Own Part, It Was Greek To Me.

Since Mine Own Doors Refuse To Entertain Me, I'll Knock Elsewhere, To See If They'll Disdain Me

Examine Well Your Blood.

To Be In Love- Where Scorn Is Bought With Groans, Coy Looks With Heart-sore Sighs, One Fading Moment's Mirth With Twenty Watchful, Weary, Tedious Nights; If Haply Won, Perhaps A Hapless Gain; If Lost, Why Then A Grievous Labour Won; However, But A Folly Bought With Wit, Or Else A Wit By Folly Vanquished.

Flower Of This Purple Dye, Hit With Cupid's Archery, Sink In Apple Of His Eye.

Lovers Ever Run Before The Clock

She Says I Am Not Fair, That I Lack Manners; She Calls Me Proud, And That She Could Not Love Me, Were Man As Rare As Phoenix.

Sometimes We Are Devils To Ourselves When We Will Tempt The Frailty Of Our Powers, Presuming On Their Changeful Potency.

For You And I Are Past Our Dancing Days.

Neither My Place, Nor Aught I Heard Of Business, Hath Raised Me From My Bed; Nor Doth The General Care Take Hold On Me; For My Particular Grief Is Of So Floodgate And O'erbearing Nature That It Engluts And Swallows Other Sorrows, And It Is Still Itself.

Small Things Make Base Men Proud.

Love Hath Made Thee A Tame Snake

A Lion Among Ladies Is A Most Dreadful Thing.

To Bed, To Bed; Sleep Kill Those Pretty Eyes, And Give As Soft Attachment To Thy Senses, As Infants Empty Of All Thought.

Be Merry; You Have Cause, So Have We All, Of Joy; For Our Escape Is Much Beyond Our Loss . . . . Then Wisely Weigh Our Sorrow With Our Comfort.

To England Will I Steal, And There I'll Steal.

My Free Drift Halts Not Particularly, But Moves Itself In A Wide Sea Of Wax; No Levelled Malice Infects One Comma In The Course I Hold, But Flies An Eagle Flight, Bold And Forth On, Leaving No Tract Behind.

I Had Rather Be A Kitten, And Cry Mew, Than One Of These Same Meeter Ballad-mongers: I Had Rather Heare A Brazen Candlestick Turn'd, Or A Dry Wheele Grate On The Axle-tree, And That Would Set My Teeth Nothing An Edge, Nothing So Much, As Mincing Poetrie.

But Thy Eternal Summer Shall Not Fade.

Honor, Riches, Marriage-blessing Long Continuance, And Increasing, Hourly Joys Be Still Upon You!

Gnarling Sorrow Hath Less Power To Bite The Man That Mocks At It And Sets It Light.

If You Prick Us Do We Not Bleed? If You Tickle Us Do We Not Laugh? If You Poison Us Do We Not Die? And If You Wrong Us Shall We Not Revenge?

In Black Ink My Love May Still Shine Bright.

Our Rash Faults Make Trivial Price Of Serious Thing We Have, Not Knowing Them Until We Know Their Grave.

So Fair And Foul A Day I Had Not Seen.

Nor Aught So Good But Strained From That Fair Use, Revolts From True Birth Stumbling On Abuse.

A Man Loves The Meat In His Youth That He Cannot Endure In His Age.

I Count Myself In Nothing Else So Happy As In A Soul Remembering My Good Friends

Swift As Shadow, Short As Any Dream

'tis Best To Weigh The Enemy More Mighty Than He Seems.

Thou Art The Mars Of Malcontents.

Farewell, A Long Farewell To All My Greatness! This Is The State Of Man: Today He Puts Forth The Tender Leaves Of Hope, Tomorrow Blossoms, And Bears His Blushing Honours Thick Upon Him: The Third Day Comes A Frost, A Killing Frost, And - When He Thinks, Good Easy Man, Full Surely His Greatness Is A-ripening - Nips His Root, And Then He Falls, As I Do.

She Moves Me Not, Or Not Removes At Least Affection's Edge In Me.

The Eye Of Man Hath Not Heard, The Ear Of Man Hath Not Seen, Man's Hand Is Not Able To Taste, His Tongue To Conceive, Nor His Heart To Report, What My Dream Was.

He Says, He Loves My Daughter; I Think So Too; For Never Gaz'd The Moon Upon The Water, As He'll Stand And Read, As 'twere, My Daughter's Eyes: And, To Be Plain, I Think, There Is Not Half A Kiss To Choose, Who Loves Another Best.

On Your Eyelids Crown The God Of Sleep, Charming Your Blood With Pleasing Heaviness, Making Such Difference 'twixt Wake And Sleep As Is The Difference Betwixt Day And Night The Hour Before The Heavenly-harness'd Team Begins His Golden Progress In The East.

Why, I' Faith, Methinks She's Too Low For A High Praise, Too Brown For A Fair Praise And Too Little For A Great Praise: Only This Commendation I Can Afford Her, That Were She Other Than She Is, She Were Unhandsome; And Being No Other But As She Is, I Do Not Like Her. (benedick, From Much Ado About Nothing)

A Stirring Dwarf We Do Allowance Give Before A Sleeping Giant.

You Are Not Wood, You Are Not Stones, But Men; And Being Men, Hearing The Will Of Caesar, It Will Inflame You, It Will Make You Mad.

Farewell, Good Salisbury, And Good Luck Go With Thee!

I Am Not In The Roll Of Common Men.

Sleep, That Sometimes Shuts Up Sorrow's Eye.

Travelers Never Did Lie, Though Fools At Home Condemn Them.

There Is A Tide In The Affairs Of Men

All Thy Vexations Were But My Trials Of Thy Love, And Thou Hast Strangely Stood The Test; Here, Afore Heaven, I Ratify This My Rich Gift.

Time Travels In Divers Paces With Divers Persons.

When That Churl Death My Bones With Dust Shall Cover.

Adieu, Adieu, Adieu! Remember Me.

I Will Be Treble-sinewed, Hearted, Breathed, And Fight Maliciously; For When Mine Hours Were Nice And Lucky, Men Did Ransom Lives Of Me For Jests; But Now I'll Set My Teeth And Send To Darkness All That Stop Me.

I Would With Such Perfection Govern, Sir, T'excel The Golden Age.

O Wretched State! O Bosom Black As Death! O Limed Soul That, Struggling To Be Free, Art More Engaged! Help, Angels! Make Assay! Bow, Stubborn Knees! And, Heart With Strings Of Steel, Be Soft As Sinews Of The New-born Babe!

Myself Will Straight Aboard, And To The State This Heavy Act With Heavy Heart Relate.

You Have Lost No Reputation At All, Unless You Repute Yourself Such A Loser.

Virtuous And Fair, Royal And Gracious.

Like A Dull Actor Now, I Have Forgot My Part, And I Am Out, Even To A Full Disgrace.

The Hind That Would Be Mated By The Lion Must Die For Love.

A Poor Thing, Perhaps, But My Own.

Should All Despair That Have Revolted Wives, The Tenth Of Mankind Would Hang Themselves.

Women Speak Two Languages - One Of Which Is Verbal.

Comets Importing Change Of Times And States, Brandish Your Crystal Tresses In The Sky And With Them Scourge The Bad Revolting Stars.

Beauty Itself Doth Of Itself Persuade The Eyes Of Men Without An Orator.

If Thou Dost Love, Proclaim It Faithfully.

Therefore, To Be Possess'd With Double Pomp, To Guard A Title That Was Rich Before, To Gild Refined Gold, To Paint The Lily, To Throw A Perfume On The Violet, To Smooth The Ice, Or Add Another Hue Unto The Rainbow, Or With Taper-light To Seek The Beauteous Eye Of Heaven To Garnish, Is Wasteful And Ridiculous Excess.

True, I Talk Of Dreams, Which Are The Children Of An Idle Brain, Begot Of Nothing But Vain Fantasy.

Ah, What A Sign It Is Of Evil Life, Where Death's Approach Is Seen So Terrible!

Grace Me No Grace, Nor Uncle Me No Uncle; I Am No Traitor's Uncle, And That Word "grace" In An Ungracious Mouth Is But Profane.

This World Is Not For Aye, Nor 'tis Not Strange That Even Our Loves Should With Our Fortunes Change, For 'tis A Question Left Us Yet To Prove, Whether Love Lead Fortune, Or Else Fortune Love.

What If This Cursed Hand Were Thicker Than Itself With Brother's Blood Is There Not Rain Enough In The Sweet Heaves To Wash It White As Snow?

Hath Not A Jew Eyes? Hath Not A Jew Hands, Organs, Dimensions, Senses, Affections, Passions? ...if You Poison Us, Do We Not Die? And If You Wrong Us, Shall We Not Revenge? If We Are Like You In The Rest, We Will Resemble You In That. If A Jew Wrong A Christian, What Is His Humility? Revenge. If A Christian Wrong A Jew, What Should His Sufferance Be By Christian Example?

A Kind Of Excellent Dumb Discourse.

Beggar That I Am, I Am Even Poor In Thanks, But I Thank You; And Sure, Dear Friends, My Thanks Are Too Dear A Halfpenny.

When We Are Born We Cry That We Are Come To This Great Stage Of Fools.

I Am Such A Tender Ass, If My Hair Do But Tickle Me, I Must Scratch.

There's Daggers In Men's Smiles.

We That Are True Lovers Run Into Strange Capers; But As All Is Mortal In Nature, So Is All Nature In Love Mortal In Folly.

Beauty Is But A Vain And Doubtful Good; A Shining Gloss That Fadeth Suddenly; A Flower That Dies When It Begins To Bud; A Doubtful Good, A Gloss, A Glass, A Flower, Lost, Faded, Broken, Dead Within An Hour.

Quote: What Angel Wakes Me From My Flowery Bed?

O God, I Could Be Bound In A Nutshell, And Count Myself A King Of Infinite Space – Were It Not That I Have Bad Dreams.

Look How The World's Poor People Are Amazed At Apparitions, Signs And Prodigies!

The Summer's Flow'r Is To The Summer Sweet, Though To Itself It Only Live And Die' But If That Flow'r With Base Infection Meet, The Basest Weed Outbraves His Dignity: For Sweetest Things Turn Sourest By Their Deeds; Lilies That Fester Smell Far Worse Than Weeds.

Love Asks Me No Questions, And Gives Me Endless Support.

O, Let Me Kiss That Hand! King Lear: Let Me Wipe It First; It Smells Of Mortality.

Dost Thou Think, Because Thou Art Virtuous, There Shall Be No More Cakes And Ale?

The Apparel Oft Proclaims The Man.

In Scorn Of Nature, Art Gave Lifeless Life.

To Do A Great Right Do A Little Wrong.

However Wickedness Outstrips Men, It Has No Wings To Fly From God.

Haply A Woman's Voice May Do Some Good When Articles Too Nicely Urged Be Stood On.

Some Innocents 'scape Not The Thunderbolt.

In Springtime, The Only Pretty Ring Time Birds Sing, Hey Ding A-ding, A-ding Sweet Lovers Love The Spring—

Thrift, Thrift, Horatio! The Funeral Bak'd Meats Did Coldly Furnish Forth The Marriage Tables.

Denmark In Hamlet

I Will Be Master Of What Is Mine Own: She Is My Goods, My Chattels; She Is My House, My Household Stuff, My Field, My Barn, My Horse, My Ox, My Ass, My Any Thing.

Henceforth, I'll Bear Affliction Till It Do Cry Out Itself, 'enough, Enough, And Die.

Day, Night, Late, Early, At Home, Abroad, Alone, In Company, Waking Or Sleeping, Still My Care Hath Been To Have Her Match'd; And Having Now Provided A Gentleman Of Princely Parentage, Of Fair Demesnes, Youthful, And Nobly Train'd, Stuff'd, As They Say, With Honourable Parts, Proportion'd As One's Thought Would Wish A Man- And Then To Have A Wretched Puling Fool, A Whining Mammet, In Her Fortune's Tender, To Answer 'i'll Not Wed, I Cannot Love; I Am Too Young, I Pray You Pardon Me'!

Our Fancies Are More Giddy And Unfirm, More Longing, Wavering, Sooner Lost And Won, Than Women's Are.

'tis Thought The King Is Dead; We Will Not Stay. The Bay Trees In Our Country Are All Wither'd.

You Take My House When You Do Take The Prop That Doth Sustain My House; You Take My Life When You Do Take The Means Whereby I Live.

Besides, They Are Our Outward Consciences, And Preachers To Us All, Admonishing That We Should Drew Us Fairly For Our End.

Fire That's Closest Kept Burns Most Of All.

I Humbly Do Beseech Of Your Pardon, For Too Much Loving You

My Love's More Richer Than My Tongue.

Blow, Winds, And Crack Your Cheeks! Rage! Blow! You Cataracts And Hurricanoes, Spout Till You Have Drenched Our Teeples, Drowned The Cocks! You Sulphurour And Thought-executing Fires, Vaunt-couriers To Oak-cleaving Thunderbolts, Singe My White Head! And Thou, All-shaking Thunder, Strike Flat The Thick Rotundity O' The World! Crack Nature's Molds, All Germens Spill At Once That Make Ingrateful Man!

Therefore Another Prologue Must Tell He Is Not A Lion

Away, You Trifler! Love! I Love Thee Not, I Care Not For Thee, Kate: This Is No World To Play With Mammets And To Tilt With Lips: We Must Have Bloody Noses And Cracked Crowns.

Wolves And Bears, They Say, Casting Their Savagery Aside, Have Done Like Offices Of Pity.

If Love Be Blind, It Best Agrees With Night

For Who So Firm That Cannot Be Seduced?

By Being Seldom Seen, I Could Not Stir But Like A Comet I Was Wondered At.

Men's Vows Are Women's Traitors

Let Me Have War, Say I; It Exceeds Peace As Far As Day Does Night; It's Spritely, Waking, Audible, And Full Of Vent.

Gloucester, We Have Done Deeds Of Charity, Made Peace Of Enmity, Fair Love Of Hate, Between These Swelling Wrong-incensed Peers.

O God Of Battles! Steel My Soldiers’ Hearts. Possess Them Not With Fear.

A Little Fire Is Quickly Trodden Out, Which, Being Suffer'd, Rivers Cannot Quench.

A Countenance More In Sorrow Than In Anger.

The Arms Are Fair, When The Intent Of Bearing Them Is Just.

Love's Fire Heats Water, Water Cools Not Love.

To-morrow, And To-morrow, And To-morrow, Creeps In This Petty Pace From Day To Day, To The Last Syllable Of Recorded Time; And All Our Yesterdays Have Lighted Fools The Way To Dusty Death. Out, Out, Brief Candle! Life's But A Walking Shadow, A Poor Player, That Struts And Frets His Hour Upon The Stage, And Then Is Heard No More. It Is A Tale Told By An Idiot, Full Of Sound And Fury, Signifying Nothing.

When Words Are Scarce They Are Seldom Spent In Vain.

Thought Provoking

I Must Be Gone And Live, Or Stay And Die.

Lay Her I' The Earth: And From Her Fair And Unpolluted Flesh May Violets Spring! I Tell Thee, Churlish Priest, A Ministering Angel Shall My Sister Be, When Thou Liest Howling. Hamlet. What, The Fair Ophelia! Queen Gertrude. Sweets To The Sweet: Farewell!

Venus Smiles Not In A House Of Tears.

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