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Bring Me A Constant Woman To Her Husband, One That Ne'er Dream'd A Joy Beyond His Pleasure, And To That Woman, When She Has Done Most, Yet Will I Add An Honour-a Great Patience.

-William Shakespeare

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Bring Me A Constant

William Shakespeare

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Bring Me A Constant Woman To Her Husband, One That Ne'er Dream'd A Joy Beyond His Pleasure, And To That Woman, When She Has Done Most, Yet Will I Add An Honour-a Great Patience.

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More From William Shakespeare

Lord, Lord, How This World Is Given To Lying!

A Thousand Kisses Buys My Heart From Me; And Pay Them At Thy Leisure, One By One.

If It Be Aught Toward The General Good, Set Honor In One Eye And Death I' Th' Other, And I Will Look On Both Indifferently; For Let The Gods So Speed Me As I Love The Name Of Honor More Than I Fear Death.

A Sad Tale's Best For Winter. I Have One Of Sprites And Goblins.

Rude Am I In My Speech, And Little Blessed With The Soft Phrase Of Peace.

Were It Good To Set The Exact Wealth Of All Our States All At One Cast? To Set So Rich A Main On The Nice Hazard Of One Doubtful Hour? It Were Not Good.

The Heart Hath Treble Wrong When It Is Barr'd The Aidance Of The Tongue.

Lawless Are They That Make Their Wills Their Law.

How Every Fool Can Play Upon The Word!

They Have A Plentiful Lack Of Wit.

Men Shut Their Doors Against A Setting Sun.

It Is In Pardoning That We Are Pardoned.

Let The End Try The Man.

Good Name In Man And Woman Is The Immediate Jewel Of Their Souls.

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.

To Die, To Sleep - To Sleep, Perchance To Dream - Ay, There's The Rub, For In This Sleep Of Death What Dreams May Come.

For Grief Is Crowned With Consolation.

Then With The Losers Let It Sympathize, For Nothing Can Seem Foul To Those That Win.

For Death Remembered Should Be Like A Mirror, Who Tells Us Life’s But Breath, To Trust It Error.

What Say You To A Piece Of Beef And Mustard?

Cry "havoc!" And Let Loose The Dogs Of War, That This Foul Deed Shall Smell Above The Earth With Carrion Men, Groaning For Burial.

Come Away, Come Away, Death, And In Sad Cypres Let Me Be Laid; Fly Away, Fly Away, Breath; I Am Slain By A Fair Cruel Maid.

Nay, We Must Think Men Are Not Gods, Nor Of Them Look For Such Observancy As Fits The Bridal.

Wise Men Never Sit And Wail Their Loss, But Cheerily Seek How To Redress Their Harms.

But It Is A Melancholy Of Mine Own, Compounded Of Many Simples, Extracted From Many Objects, And Indeed The Sundry Contemplation Of My Travels, Which, By Often Rumination, Wraps Me In The Most Humorous Sadness.

O,speak To Me No More;these Words Like Daggers Enter My Ears.(a Fancy Way Of Saying Shut Up!)" — William Shakespeare "hamlet

Who Is Here So Vile That Will Not Love His Country?

I Hold The World But As The World, Gratiano!

Conversation Should Be Pleasant Without Scurrility, Witty Without Affectation, Free Without Indecency, Learned Without Conceitedness, Novel Without Falsehood.

Think You A Little Din Can Daunt Mine Ears? Have I Not In My Time Heard Lions Roar? Have I Not Heard The Sea, Puffed Up With Winds, Rage Like An Angry Boar Chafed With Sweat? Have I Not Heard Great Ordinance In The Field, And Heaven's Artillery Thunder In The Skies? Have I Not In A Pitched Battle Heard Loud 'larums, Neighing Steeds, And Trumpets' Clang? And Do You Tell Me Of A Woman's Tongue, That Gives Not Half So Great A Blow To Hear As Will A Chestnut In A Farmer's Fire? Tush! Tush! Fear Boys With Bugs. Grumio: For He Fears None.

O, I Do Not Like That Paying Back, 'tis A Double Labor.

Women Are Angels, Wooing: Things Won Are Done; Joy's Soul Lies In The Doing: That She Beloved Knows Naught, That Knows Not This-- Men Prize The Thing Ungained More Than It Is.

Women May Fail When There Is No Strength In Man

Alas, That Love, Whose View Is Muffled Still, Should Without Eyes See Pathways To His Will!

In Me Thou See'st The Twilight Of Such Day As After Sunset Fadeth In The West, Which By And By Black Night Doth Take Away Death's Second Self, That Seals Up All In Rest. -sonnet 73

Don't Judge A Man's Conscience By Looking At His Face Cause He May Have A Bad Heart.

Fairest Cordelia, That Art Most Rich, Being Poor; Most Choice, Forsaken; And Most Loved, Despised! Thee And Thy Virtues Here I Seize Upon: Be It Lawful I Take Up What's Cast Away. Gods, Gods! 'tis Strange That From Their Cold'st Neglect My Love Should Kindle To Inflamed Respect. Thy Dowerless Daughter, King, Thrown To My Chance, Is Queen Of Us, Of Ours, And Our Fair France: Not All The Dukes Of Waterish Burgundy Can Buy This Unprized Precious Maid Of Me. Bid Them Farewell, Cordelia, Though Unkind: Thou Losest Here, A Better Where To Find.

Good Things Should Be Praised.

And Where The Offense Is, Let The Great Axe Fall.

When He Is Best, He Is A Little Worse Than A Man; And When He Is Worst, He Is Little Better Than A Beast.

He Hath Borne Himself Beyond The Promise Of His Age, Doing, In The Figure Of A Lamb, The Feats Of A Lion.

And Worse I May Be Yet: The Worst Is Not So Long As We Can Say 'this Is The Worst.

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

But Miserable Most, To Love Unloved? This You Should Pity Rather Than Despise

To Weep Is To Make Less The Depth Of Grief.

The Eagle Suffers Little Birds To Sing, And Is Not Careful What They Mean Thereby, Knowing That With The Shadow Of His Wings He Can At Pleasure Stint Their Melody: Even So Mayest Thou The Giddy Men Of Rome.

By That Sin Fell The Angels.

You See Me Here, You Gods, A Poor Old Man, As Full Of Grief As Age; Wretched In Both.

I Am Not Yet Of Percy's Mind, The Hotspur Of The North; He That Kills Me Some Six Or Seven Dozen Of Scots As A Breakfast, Washes His Hands, And Says To His Wife, 'fie Upon This Quiet Life! I Want Work.

O Gentle Son, Upon The Heat And Flame Of Thy Distemper, Sprinkle Cool Patience.

Love Does Not See With The Eyes, But With The Soul.

People’s Good Deeds We Write In Water. The Evil Deeds Are Etched In Brass.

When You Depart From Me Sorrow Abides And Happiness Takes His Leave.

Time Is The King Of Men.

I Have Ventured, Like Little Wanton Boys That Swim On Bladders, This Many Summers In A Sea Of Glory, But Far Beyond My Depth. My High-blown Pride At Length Broke Under Me, And Now Has Left Me, Weary And Old With Service, To The Mercy Of A Rude Stream That Must For Ever Hide Me.

Though I Look Old, Yet I Am Strong And Lusty; For In My Youth I Never Did Apply Hot And Rebellious Liquors In My Blood; And Did Not, With Unbashful Forehead, Woo The Means Of Weakness And Debility: Therefore My Age Is As A Lusty Winter, Frosty But Kindly.

To Gild Refined Gold, To Paint The Lily... Is Wasteful And Ridiculous Excess

I Had Rather Live With Cheese And Garlic In A Windmill.

Conscience Is A Thousand Swords.

Small Things Make Base Men Proud.

The Gaudy, Blabbing, And Remorseful Day Is Crept Into The Bosom Of The Sea.

I Were Better To Be Eaten To Death With A Rust Than To Be Scoured To Nothing With Perpetual Motion.

The Wounds Invisible That Love's Keen Arrows Make.

Tis In My Memory Lock'd, And You Yourself Shall Keep The Key Of It.

It Is As Easy To Count Atomies As To Resolve The Propositions Of A Lover.

This Thing Of Darkness I Acknowlege Mine. There Is Nothing More Confining Than The Prison We Don't Know We Are In.

For Where Is Any Author In The World Teaches Such Beauty As A Woman's Eye?

When I Was At Home I Was In A Better Place

How Use Doth Breed A Habit In A Man.

Jesu, Jesu, The Mad Days That I Have Spent! And To See How Many Of My Old Acquaintance Are Dead!

In Limited Professions There's Boundless Theft.

A Great While Ago The World Begun, With Hey, Ho, The Wind And The Rain; But That's All One, Our Play Is Done, And We'll Strive To Please You Every Day.

What Is Past Is Prologue.

What's Past And What's To Come Is Strew'd With Husks And Formless Ruin Of Oblivion.

I Am A Great Eater Of Beef, And I Believe That Does Harm To My Wit.

Extremity Is The Trier Of Spirits.

This Making Of Christians Will Raise The Price Of Hogs.

When The Mind's Free, The Body's Delicate.

Love Is A Smoke Made With The Fume Of Sighs.

So Get The Start Of The Majestic World And Bear The Palm Alone.

I Can Again Thy Former Light Restore, Should I Repent Me: But Once Put Out Thy Light, Thou Cunning'st Pattern Of Excelling Nature, I Know Not Where Is That Promethean Heat That Can Thy Light Relume.

What Is Light, If Sylvia Be Not Seen? What Is Joy If Sylvia Be Not By?

'tis Brief, My Lord...as Woman's Love.

My Pride Fell With My Fortunes.

O Time, Thou Must Untangle This, Not I. It Is Too Hard A Knot For Me T'untie.

These Times Of Woe Afford No Time To Woo.

Give To A Gracious Message An Host Of Tongues, But Let Ill Tidings Tell Themselves When They Be Felt.

She Is Mine Own, And I As Rich In Having Such A Jewel As Twenty Seas, If All Their Sand Were Pearl, The Water Nectar, And The Rocks Pure Gold.

He Hath Not Eat Paper, As It Were; He Hath Not Drunk Ink; His Intellect Is Not Replenished; He Is Only An Animal, Only Sensible In The Duller Parts. (shakespeare, Love's Labor's Lost, Iv)

I Shall Despair. There Is No Creature Loves Me; And If I Die No Soul Will Pity Me: And Wherefore Should They, Since That I Myself Find In Myself No Pity To Myself?

So Long As Men Can Breathe, Or Eyes Can See, So Long Lives This, And This Gives Life To Thee.

Write Till Your Ink Be Dry, And With Your Tears Moist It Again, And Frame Some Feeling Line That May Discover Such Integrity.

Woah Is Me To Have Seen What I Seen See What I See

Hamlet And Ophelia

Every True Man's Apparel Fits Your Thief.

No Might Nor Greatness In Mortality Can Censure 'scape; Back- Wounding Calumny The Whitest Virtue Strikes. What King So Strong Can Tie The Gall Up In The Slanderous Tongue?

One Fire Burns Out Another's Burning, One Pain Is Lessen'd By Another's Anguish.

It Is Not In The Stars To Hold Our Destiny But In Ourselves.

Will Fortune Never Come With Both Hands Full, But Write Her Fair Words Still In Foulest Terms?

A True Repentance Shuns The Evil Itself, More Than The External Suffering Or The Shame.

O, This Life Is Nobler Than Attending For A Check, Richer Than Doing Nothing For A Robe, Prouder Than Rustling In Unpaid-for Silk: Such Pain The Cap Of Him That Makes Him Fine Yet Keeps His Book Uncrossed.

Full Oft We See Cold Wisdom Waiting On Superfluous Folly.

I Will Not Be Sworn But Love May Transform Me To An Oyster

Thy Food Is Such As Hath Been Belch'd On By Infected Lungs.

All The Perfumes Of Arabia Will Not Sweeten This Little Hand! Oh, Oh, Oh!

If We Are Mark'd To Die, We Are Enow To Do Our Country Loss; And If To Live, The Fewer Men, The Greater Share Of Honour. God's Will! I Pray Thee; Wish Not One Man More.

Because I Cannot Flatter And Look Fair, Smile In Men's Faces, Smooth, Deceive, And Cog, Duck With French Nods And Apish Courtesy, I Must Be Held A Rancorous Enemy.

Ha. "against My Will I Am Sent To Bid You Come Into Dinner." There's A Double Meaning In That. -benedick (much Ado)

Use Almost Can Change The Stamp Of Nature.

To Loathe The Taste Of Sweetness, Whereof Little More Than A Little Is By Much Too Much.

I Will Make A Star-chamber Matter Of It.

Virtue Itself Scapes Not Calumnious Strokes.

It Is That Fery Person For All The Orld, As Just As You Will Desire; And Seven Hundred Pounds Of Moneys, And Gold, And Silver, Is Her Grandsire Upon His Death's-bed-got Deliver To A Joyful Resurrections!

The Instruments Of Darkness Tell Us Truths.

She's Gone. I Am Abused, And My Relief Must Be To Loathe Her.

No Man's Pie Is Freed From His Ambitious Finger.

I Must To The Barber's, Monsieur, For Methinks I Am Marvellous Hairy About The Face.

Is This A Dagger Which I See Before Me, The Handle Toward My Hand?

Our Wills And Fates Do So Contrary Run, That Our Devices Still Are Overthrown; Our Thoughts Are Ours, Their Ends None Of Our Own.

He Lives In Fame That Died In Virtue's Cause.

Modest Wisdom Plucks Me From Over-credulous Haste.

Bow, Stubborn Knees, And, Heart With Strings Of Steel, Be Soft As Sinews Of The New-born Babe. All Many Be Well.

Assume A Virtue If You Have It Not.

I Wasted Time, And Now Doth Time Waste Me; For Now Hath Time Made Me His Numbering Clock: My Thoughts Are Minutes; And With Sighs They Jar Their Watches On Unto Mine Eyes, The Outward Watch, Whereto My Finger, Like A Dial's Point, Is Pointing Still, In Cleansing Them From Tears. Now Sir, The Sound That Tells What Hour It Is Are Clamorous Goans, Which Strike Upon My Heart, Which Is The Bell: So Sighs And Tears And Groans Show Minutes, Times, And Hours.

There Is A Devilish Mercy In The Judge, If You'll Implore It, That Will Free Your Life, But Fetter You Till Death.

What To Ourselves In Passion We Propose, The Passion Ending, Doth The Purpose Lose.

My Father's Wit, And My Mother's Tongue, Assist Me!

Why, There's A Wench! Come On, And Kiss Me, Kate.

How My Achievements Mock Me!

I Would Not Wish Any Companion In The World But You.

Wisely, I Say, I Am A Bachelor.

Is Twenty Hundred Kisses Such A Trouble?

We Are Not Ourselves When Nature, Being Oppressed, Commands The Mind To Suffer With The Body.

My Cake Is Dough, But I'll In Among The Rest, Out Of Hope Of All But My Share Of The Feast.

Free From Gross Passion Or Of Mirth Of Anger Constant Spirit, Not Swerving With The Blood, Garnish'd And Deck'd In Modest Compliment, Not Working With The Eye Without The Ear, And But In Purged Judgement Trusting Neither? Such And So Finely Bolted Didst Thou Seem.

Reflection Is The Business Of Man; A Sense Of His State Is His First Duty: But Who Remembereth Himself In Joy? Is It Not In Mercy Then That Sorrow Is Allotted Unto Us?

So Will I Turn Her Virtue Into Pitch, And Out Of Her Own Goodness Make The Net That Shall Enmesh Them All.

Knavery's Plain Face Is Never Seen Till Used.

He That Plays The King Shall Be Welcome- His Majesty Shall Have Tribute Of Me; The Adventurous Knight Shall Use His Foil And Target; The Lover Shall Not Sigh Gratis; The Humorous Man Shall End His Part In Peace; The Clown Shall Make Those Laugh Whose Lungs Are Tickle O' Th' Sere; And The Lady Shall Say Her Mind Freely, Or The Blank Verse Shall Halt Fort.

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

If She Be Fair And Wise, Fairness And Wit, The One's For Use, The Other Useth It.

O Heaven! Were Man, But Constant, He Were Perfect.

If Chance Will Have Me King, Why, Chance May Crown Me.

For It Falls Out That What We Have We Prize Not To The Worth Whiles We Enjoy It, But Being Lacked And Lost, Why, Then We Rack The Value, Then We Find The Virtue That Possession Would Not Show Us While It Was Ours.

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!

If Thou Couldst, Doctor, Cast The Water Of My Land, Find Her Disease, And Purge It To A Sound And Pristine Health, I Would Applaud Thee To The Very Echo, That Should Applaud You Again.

Tis Beauty That Doth Oft Make Women Proud; But, God He Knows, Thy Share Thereof Is Small.

Tempt Not A Desperate Man

Thou Unfit For Any Place But Hell.

A Fool, A Fool! I Met A Fool I' Th' Forest, A Motley Fool! A Miserable World! As I Do Live By Food, I Met A Fool Who Laid Him Down And Basked Him In The Sun And Railed On Lady Fortune In Good Terms, In Good Set Terms, And Yet A Motley Fool.

The Hand That Hath Made You Fair Hath Made You Good. Pity Is The Virtue Of The Law, And None But Tyrants Use It Cruelly.

A Breath Thou Art, Servile To All The Skyey Influences.

Give Sorrow Words; The Grief That Does Not Speak Knits Up The O-er Wrought Heart And Bids It Break.

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

Let None Presume To Wear An Undeserved Dignity. O That Estates, Degrees, And Offices Were Not Derived Corruptly, And That Clear Honour Were Purchased By The Merit Of The Wearer!

Better A Little Chiding Than A Great Deal Of Heartbreak.

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.

They Do Not Abuse The King That Flatter Him. For Flattery Is The Bellows Blows Up Sin; The Thing The Which Is Flattered, But A Spark To Which That Blast Gives Heat And Stronger Glowing.

Through The Forest Have I Gone. But Athenian Found I None, On Whose Eyes I Might Approve This Flower's Force In Stirring Love. Night And Silence.--who Is Here? Weeds Of Athens He Doth Wear: This Is He, My Master Said, Despised The Athenian Maid; And Here The Maiden, Sleeping Sound, On The Dank And Dirty Ground. Pretty Soul! She Durst Not Lie Near This Lack-love, This Kill-courtesy. Churl, Upon Thy Eyes I Throw All The Power This Charm Doth Owe. When Thou Wakest, Let Love Forbid Sleep His Seat On Thy Eyelid: So Awake When I Am Gone; For I Must Now To Oberon.

O Jest Unseen, Inscrutable, Invisible, As A Nose On A Man's Face, Or A Weathercock On A Steeple.

Put On The Dauntless Spirit Of Resolution.

Fortune Is Merry, And In This Mood Will Give Us Anything.

The Benediction Of These Covering Heavens Fall On Their Heads Like Dew, For They Are Worthy To Inlay Heaven With Stars.

Trust Not Your Daughter's Minds By What You See Them Act.

'tis Not Enough To Help The Feeble Up, But To Support Them After.

With This Special Observance, That You O'erstep Not The Modesty Of Nature. For Anything So Overdone Is From The Purpose Of Playing, Whose End, Both At The First And Now, Was And Is, To Hold, As 'twere, The Mirror Up To Nature.

Let Us Kill All Lawyers

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

Pleasure And Revenge Have Ears More Deaf Than Adders To The Voice Of Any True Decision.

I Thought My Heart Had Been Wounded With The Claws Of A Lion.

Talkers Are No Good Doers.

The Blood Of Youth Burns Not With Such Excess As Gravity's Revolt To Wantonness.

I Never Yet Did Hear, That The Bruis'd Heart Was Pierced Through The Ear

The Small Amount Of Foolery Wise Men Have Makes A Great Show.

How Poor Are They That Have Not Patience! What Wound Did Ever Heal But By Degrees?

Thus Can The Demigod Authority Make Us Pay Down For Our Offense By Weight The Words Of Heaven; On Whom It Will, It Will, On Whom It Will Not, So: Yet Still 'tis Just.

It Is Not Vain Glory For A Man And His Glass To Confer In His Own Chamber.

When My Love Swears That She Is Made Of Truth, I Do Believe Her, Though I Know She Lies.

And In The Morn And Liquid Dew Of Youth, Contagious Blastments Are Are Most Imminent.

Speak Low, If You Speak Love.

Every Fair From Fair Sometime Declines

Mine Honor Is My Life, Both Grow In One. Take Honor From Me, And My Life Is Done. Then, Dear My Liege, Mine Honor Let Me Try; In That I Live, And For That I Will Die.

When I Waked, I Cried To Dream Again

Since I Do Purpose To Marry, I Will Think Nothing To Any Purpose That The World Can Say Against It; And Therefore Never Floutat Me For What I Have Said Against It; For Man Is A Giddy Thing, And This Is My Conclusion.

How Many Ages Hence Shall This Our Lofty Scene Be Acted Over In States Unborn And Accents Yet Unknown!

. . . Nothing In His Life Became Him Like The Leaving It; He Died As One That Had Been Studied In His Death To Throw Away The Dearest Thing He Owed, As 'twere A Careless Trifle.

This Is No Time To Lend Money, Especially Upon Bare Friendship Without Security.

Either To Die The Death Or To Abjure For Ever The Society Of Men. Therefore, Fair Hermia, Question Your Desires; Know Of Your Youth, Examine Well Your Blood, Whether, If You Yield Not To Your Father's Choice, You Can Endure The Livery Of A Nun, For Aye To Be In Shady Cloister Mew'd, To Live A Barren Sister All Your Life, Chanting Faint Hymns To The Cold Fruitless Moon. Thrice-blessed They That Master So Their Blood, To Undergo Such Maiden Pilgrimage; But Earthlier Happy Is The Rose Distill'd, Than That Which Withering On The Virgin Thorn Grows, Lives And Dies In Single Blessedness.

I Have Of Late--but Wherefore I Know Not--lost All My Mirth, Forgone All Custom Of Exercise.

Thou Canst Not Speak Of What Thou Dost Not Feel.

A Heavy Heart Bears Not A Nimble Tongue.

Past And To Come, Seems Best; Things Present, Worse.

What Hands Are Here? Ha! They Pluck Out Mine Eyes! Will All Great Neptune’s Ocean Wash This Blood Clean From My Hand? No; This My Hand Will Rather The Multitudinous Seas Incarnadine, Making The Green One Red.” “my Hands Are Of Your Colour; But I Shame To Wear A Heart So White. A Little Water Clears Us Of This Deed: How Easy It Is Then! Your Constancy Hath Left You Unattended.

All Pride Is Willing Pride.

Experience Is By Industry Achieved, And Perfected By The Swift Course Of Time.

If I Were A Woman I Would Kiss As Many Of You As Had Beards That Pleased Me, Complexions That Liked Me And Breaths That I Defied Not

Give Me Mine Angle, We'll To Th' River: There, My Music Playing Far Off, I Will Betray Tawny-finned Fishes. My Bended Hook Shall Pierce Their Slimy Jaws; And As I Draw Them Up, I'll Think Them Every One An Antony, And Say, 'ah, Ha! Are Caught!'

Desire Of Having Is The Sin Of Covetousness.

Two Starving Men Cannot Be Twice As Hungry As One; But Two Rascals Can Be Ten Times As Vicious As One.

It Easeth Some, Though None It Ever Cured, To Think Their Dolour Others Have Endured.

Celebrity Is Never More Admired Than By The Negligent.

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