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For Conspiracy, I Know Not How It Tastes, Though It Be Dished For Me To Try How.

-William Shakespeare

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For Conspiracy, I Know

William Shakespeare

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For Conspiracy, I Know Not How It Tastes, Though It Be Dished For Me To Try How.

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Do You Set Down Your Name In The Scroll Of Youth, That Are Written Down Old With All The Characters Of Age?

Now I Will Believe That There Are Unicorns.

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

An Arrant Traitor As Any Is In The Universal World, Or In France, Or In England.

Nature Does Require Her Times Of Preservation.

Hot And Hasty, Like A Scotch Jig.

Fair Is Foul, And Foul Is Fair, Hover Through Fog And Filthy Air.

When I Have Plucked The Rose, I Cannot Give It Vital Growth Again, It Needs Must Wither. I'll Smell It On The Tree.

Blessed Are The Peacemakers On Earth.

Sweet Love! Sweet Lines! Sweet Life! Here Is Her Hand, The Agent Of Her Heart; Here Is Her Oath For Love, Her Honour's Pawn

Reputation, Reputation, Reputation! O, I Ha' Lost My Reputation, I Ha' Lost The Immortal Part Of Myself, And What Remains Is Bestial!

He That Is Strucken Blind Can Not Forget The Precious Treasure Of His Eyesight Lost.

If One Good Deed In All My Life I Did, I Do Repent It From My Very Soul.

I Always Thought It Was Both Impious And Unnatural That Such Immanity And Bloody Strife Should Reign Among Professors Of One Faith.

Love All. Trust A Few. Do Wrong To None. This Above All: To Thine Own Self Be True. No Legacy Is So Rich As Honesty. Brevity Is The Soul Of Wit

In Limited Professions There's Boundless Theft.

Thou Art Sad; Get Thee A Wife, Get Thee A Wife!

Fall Greeks; Fail Fame; Honour Or Go Or Stay; My Major Vow Lies Here, This I'll Obey.

To Be Slow In Words Is A Woman's Only Virtue.

I Had Rather Eleven Died Nobly For Their Country Than One Voluptuously Surfeit Out Of Action.

Crabbed Age And Youth Cannot Live Together: Youth Is Full Of Pleasance, Age Is Full Of Care.

Though Fortune's Malice Overthrow My State, My Mind Exceeds The Compass Of Her Wheel.

Virtue And Genuine Graces In Themselves Speak What No Words Can Utter.

Though I Am Not Naturally Honest, I Am Sometimes So By Chance.

Woe, Destruction, Ruin, And Decay; The Worst Is Death And Death Will Have His Day.

He Is Not Great Who Is Not Greatly Good.

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

You Know Who You Are, But Know Not Who You Could Be.

Full Of Wise Saws And Modern Instances.

Hast Any Philosophy In Thee Shepherd? .• • • • . . . He That Wants Money, Means And Content, Is Without Three Good Friends; That The Property Of Rain Is To Wet And Fire To Burn; That Good Pasture Makes Fat Sheep, And A Great Cause Of The Night Is Lack Of The Sun; That He That Hath Learned No Wit By Nature Nor Art May Complain Of Good Breeding Or Comes Of A Very Dull Kindred.

This England Never Did, Nor Never Shall, Lie At The Proud Foot Of A Conqueror.

It Is Not Night When I Do See Your Face.

My Love's More Richer Than My Tongue.

If Circumstances Lead Me, I Will Find Where Truth Is Hid, Though It Were Hid Indeed Within The Centre.

The Truest Poetry Is The Most Feigning.

There Is No Creature Loves Me; And If I Die, No Soul Will Pity Me.

Mine Eyes Smell Onions: I Shall Weep Anon.

The Foole Doth Thinke He Is Wise, But The Wiseman Knowes Himselfe To Be A Foole.

Thou Call'st Me Dog Before Thou Hadst A Cause, But Since I Am A Dog, Beware My Fangs.

Too Much Of Water Hast Thou, Poor Ophelia, And Therefore I Forbid My Tears: But Yet It Is Our Trick; Nature Her Custom Holds, Let Shame Say What It Will: When These Are Gone, The Woman Will Be Out. — Adieu, My Lord! I Have A Speech Of Fire, That Fain Would Blaze, But That This Folly Drowns It.

Thy Wish Was Father, Harry, To That Thought.

Take No Repulse, Whatever She Doth Say; For 'get You Gone,' She Doth Not Mean 'away.' Flatter And Praise, Commend, Extol Their Graces; Though Ne'er So Black, Say They Have Angels' Faces

Was Ever Woman In This Humour Wooed? Was Ever Woman In This Humour Won?

He Who Has Injured Thee Was Either Stronger Or Weaker Than Thee. If Weaker, Spare Him; If Stronger, Spare Thyself.

Do Not Give Dalliance Too Much Rein; The Strongest Oaths Are Straw To The Fire In The Blood.

My Love Admits No Qualifying Dross

I'll Read Enough When I Do See The Very Book Indeed Where All My Sins Are Writ, And That's Myself.

I Have Bought Golden Opinions From All Sorts Of People.

O No, Thy Love Though Much, Is Not So Great, It Is My Love That Keeps Mine Eye Awake, Mine Own True Love That Doth My Rest Defeat, To Play The Watchman Ever For Thy Sake. For Thee Watch I, Whilst Thou Dost Wake Elsewhere, From Me Far Off, With Others All Too Near.

Friendship's Full Of Dregs.

In Love The Heavens Themselves Do Guide The State; Money Buys Lands, And Wives Are Sold By Fate.

Those, That With Haste Will Make A Mighty Fire, Begin It With Weak Straws.

Thy Words, I Grant Are Bigger, For I Wear Not, My Dagger In My Mouth.

Thou Canst Not Speak Of What Thou Dost Not Feel.

Truth Needs No Color; Beauty, No Pencil.

Leave Us To Our Free Election.

Two May Keep Counsel Putting One Away!

He Thinks Too Much. Such Men Are Dangerous.

O, That Our Fathers Would Applause Our Loves, To Seal Our Happiness With Hteir Consents!

Now, My Co-mates And Brothers In Exile, Hath Not Old Custom Made This Life More Sweet Than That Of Painted Pomp? Are Not These Woods More Free From Peril Than The Envious Court?

This Feather Stirs; She Lives! If It Be So, It Is A Chance Which Does Redeem All Sorrows That Ever I Have Felt.

Truth Is Truth To The End Of Reckoning.

Courage Mounteth With Occasion.

Is It Not Strange, That Sheep's Guts Should Hale Souls Out Of Men's Bodies!

Men That Hazard All Do It In Hope Of Fair Advantages: A Golden Mind Stoops Not To Shows Of Dross.

Something Is Rotten In The State Of Denmark.

Disease And Death

For There Was Never Yet Philosoper That Could Endure The Toothache Patiently, However They Have Writ The Style Of Gods, And Made A Push At Chance And Sufferance.

If There Be No Great Love In The Beginning, Yet Heaven May Decrease It Upon Better Acquaintance, When We Are Married And Have More Occasion To Know One Another: I Hope, Upon Familiarity Will Grow More Contempt.

That Man That Hath A Tongue, I Say Is No Man, If With His Tongue He Cannot Win A Woman.

But Wherefore Could Not I Pronounce 'amen'? I Had Most Need Of Blessing, And 'amen' Stuck In My Throat.

Great Men Should Drink With Harness On Their Throats.

In Thy Youth Wast As True A Lover, As Ever Sighed Upon A Midnight Pillow

He's Mad That Trusts In The Tameness Of A Wolf.

Madam, You Have Bereft Me Of All Words, Only My Blood Speaks To You In My Veins.

A Fool Thinks Himself To Be Wise, But A Wise Man Knows Himself To Be A Fool.

My Love Is Deep; The More I Give To Thee, The More I Have, Both Are Infinite.

Most Subject Is The Fattest Soil To Weeds.

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.

If To Do Were As Easy As To Know What Were Good To Do, Chapels Had Been Churches, And Poor Men’s Cottages Princes’ Palaces. It Is A Good Divine That Follows His Own Instructions: I Can Easier Teach Twenty What Were Good To Be Done, Than Be One Of The Twenty To Follow Mine Own Teaching.

The Devil Shall Have His Bargain; For He Was Never Yet A Breaker Of Proverbs--he Will Give The Devil His Due.

Some Sins Do Bear Their Privilege On Earth, And So Doth Yours: Your Fault Was Not Your Folly; Needs Must You Lay Your Heart At His Dispose, Subjected Tribute To Commanding Love, Against Whose Fury And Unmatched Force The Aweless Lion Could Not Wage The Fight Nor Keep His Princely Heart From Richard's Hand.

Would I Were In An Alehouse In London.

And Teach Me How To Name The Bigger Light, And How The Less, That Burn By Day And Night.

Here's Flowers For You; Hot Lavender, Mints, Savoury, Marjoram; The Marigold, That Goes To Bed Wi' The Sun And With Him Rises Weeping: These Are Flowers Of Middle Summer, And I Think They Are Given To Men Of Middle Age.

My Salad Days, When I Was Green In Judgment.

By Heaven, I Love Thee Better Than Myself

In Sweet Music Is Such Art: Killing Care And Grief Of Heart Fall Asleep, Or Hearing, Die.

Beware Of Entrance To A Quarrel, But, Being In, Bear T That Th' Opposed May Beware Of Thee.

Important Hamlet

And Sleep, That Sometime Shuts Up Sorrow's Eye, Steal Me Awhile From Mine Own Company.

Flesh And Blood, You, Brother Mine, That Entertain'd Ambition, Expell'd Remorse And Nature, Who, With Sebastian- Whose Inward Pinches Therefore Are Most Strong- Would Here Have Kill'd Your King, I Do Forgive Thee, Unnatural Though Thou Art.

Sometimes When We Are Labeled, When We Are Branded Our Brand Becomes Our Calling.

We Cannot Conceive Of Matter Being Formed Of Nothing, Since Things Require A Seed To Start From... Therefore There Is Not Anything Which Returns To Nothing, But All Things Return Dissolved Into Their Elements.

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

Would It Not Grieve A Woman To Be Over-mastered By A Piece Of Valiant Dust? To Make An Account Of Her Life To A Clod Of Wayward Marle?

A Woman's Fitness Comes By Fits.

Words To Deeds Cold Breath Gives.

Do Not Swear By The Moon, For She Changes Constantly. Then Your Love Would Also Change.

O Father Abram, What These Christians Are, Whose Own Hard Dealing Teaches Them Suspect The Thoughts Of Others!

So May He Rest, His Faults Lie Gently On Him!

You Know That Love Will Creep In Service Where It Cannot Go.

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?

I Am Not Prone To Weeping As Our Sex Commonly Are; The Want Of Which Vain Dew Perchance Shall Dry Your Pities; But I Have That Honorable Grief Lodged Here Which Burns Worse Than Tears Drown.

Make Less Thy Body Hence, And More Thy Grace. Leave Gormandizing.

I Had Rather Have A Fool To Make Me Merry Than Experience To Make Me Sad And To Travel For It Too!

If It Be True That Good Wine Needs No Bush, 'tis True That A Good Play Needs No Epilogue.

Your Bait Of Falsehood Takes This Carp Of Truth, And Thus Do We Of Wisdom And Of Reach, With Windlasses And With Assays Of Bias, By Indirections Find Directions Out.

The Robbed That Smiles, Steals Something From The Thief.

O, Let My Books Be Then The Eloquence And Dumb Presages Of My Speaking Breast.

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!

If I For My Opinion Bleed, Opinion Shall Be Surgeon To My Hurt, And Keep Me On The Side Where Still I Am.

For They Are Yet Ear-kissing Arguments.

He Draweth Out The Thread Of His Verbosity Finer Than The Staple Of His Argument.

O Constancy, Be Strong Upon My Side, Set A Huge Mountain 'tween My Heart And Tongue! I Have A Man's Mind, But A Woman's Might.

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

Now Stand You On The Top Of Happy Hours, And Many Maiden Gardens Yet Unset, With Virtuous Wish Would Bear You Living Flowers, Much Liker Than Your Painted Counterfeit: So Should The Lines Of Life That Life Repair Which This, Time's Pencil, Or My Pupil Pen Neither In Inward Worth Nor Outward Fair Can Make You Live Your Self In Eyes Of Men.

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

The Tyrant Custom, Most Grave Senators, Hath Made The Flinty And Steel Couch Of War My Thrice-driven Bed Of Down.

For Man Is A Giddy Thing, And This Is My Conclusion.

Demand Me Nothing: What You Know, You Know.

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

I Am A Kind Of Burr; I Shall Stick.

Though It Be Honest, It Is Never Good To Bring Bad News.

When That Churl Death My Bones With Dust Shall Cover.

I Can Express No Kinder Sign Of Love, Than This Kind Kiss.

A Wicked Conscience Mouldeth Goblins Swift As Frenzy Thoughts.

Thou Seest We Are Not All Alone Unhappy: This Wide And Universal Theatre Presents More Woeful Pageants Than The Scene Wherein We Play In.

What's In A Name? That Which We Call A Rose By Any Other Name Would Smell As Sweet.

There Was Never Yet Fair Woman But She Made Mouths In A Glass.

Life's Uncertain Voyage.

Now, My Masters, Happy Man Be His Dole, Say I; Every Man To His Business.

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

In Time The Savage Bull Doth Bear The Yoke.

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.

No Reckoning Made, But Sent To My Account With All My Imperfections On My Head.

Farewell! God Knows When We Shall Meet Again.

The Cat Will Mew, And Dog Will Have His Day.

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

Corruption Wins Not More Than Honesty.

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

Music Can Minister To Minds Diseased, Pluck From The Memory A Rooted Sorrow, Raze Out The Written Troubles Of The Brain, And With Its Sweet Oblivious Antidote, Cleanse The Full Bosom Of All Perilous Stuff That Weighs Upon The Heart.

Why, Headstrong Liberty Is Lashed With Woe. There's Nothing Situate Under Heaven's Eye But Hath His Bound, In Earth, In Sea, In Sky.

In Law, What Plea So Tainted And Corrupts, But Being Seasoned With A Gracious Voice Obscures The Show Of Evil.

The Tempter Or The Tempted, Who Sins Most? Ha! Not She: Nor Doth She Tempt: But It Is I That, Lying By The Violet In The Sun, Do As The Carrion Does, Not As The Flower, Corrupt With Virtuous Season.

Give Me That Man That Is Not Passion's Slave, And I Will Wear Him In My Heart's Core, In My Heart Of Heart, As I Do Thee.

Time Goes On Crutches Till Love Have All His Rites.

Press Not A Falling Man Too Far; 'tis Virtue: His Faults Lie Open To The Laws; Let Them, Not You, Correct Him.

O, How I Faint When I Of You Do Write, Knowing A Better Spirit Doth Use Your Name, And In The Praise Thereof Spends All His Might To Make Me Tongue-tied Speaking Of Your Fame.

New Customs, Though They Be Never So Ridiculous (nay, Let Em Be Unmanly), Yet Are Followed.

All The World Is A Stage And We Are Merely Players.

It Warms The Very Sickness In My Heart, That I Shall Live And Tell Him To His Teeth, "thus Diddest Thou;"

Direct Not Him Whose Way Himself Will Choose; 'tis Breath Not Lack'st, And That Breath Wilt Thou Lose.

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?

Give Every Man Thine Ear, But Few Thy Voice; Take Each Man's Censure, But Reserve Thy Judgment.

A Violet In The Youth Of Primy Nature, Forward, Not Permanent--sweet, Not Lasting; The Perfume And Suppliance Of A Minute; No More.

Hamlet And Ophelia

I Know Them, Yea, And What They Weigh, Even To The Utmost Scruple; Scambling, Out-facing, Fashion-mong'ring Boys, That Lie, And Cog, And Flout, Deprave, And Slander, Go Antickly, And Show Outward Hideousness, And Speak Off Half A Dozen Dangerous Words, How They Might Hurt Their Enemies, If They Durst; And This Is All.

Yield Not Thy Neck To Fortunes Yoke, But Let Thy Dauntless Mind Still Ride In Triumph Over All Mischance.

There Is None Of My Uncle's Marks Upon You; He Taught Me How To Know A Man In Love; In Which Cage Of Rushes I Am Sure You Are Not Prisoner.

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

I Love You More Than Word Can Wield The Matter, Dearer Than Eye-sight, Space And Liberty

Good Old Grandsire ... We Shall Be Joyful Of Thy Company.

He That Hath The Steerage Of My Course, Direct My Sail.

For Who So Firm That Cannot Be Seduced?

I Am Your Wife If You Will Marry Me. If Not, I'll Die Your Maid. To Be Your Fellow You May Deny Me, But I'll Be Your Servant Whether You Will Or No.

Nor Age So Eat Up My Invention.

Tut, Man, One Fire Burns Out Another's Burning; One Pain Is Less'ned By Another's Anguish; Turn Giddy, And Be Holp By Backward Turning; One Desperate Grief Cures With Another's Languish.

With Mirth And Laughter Let Old Wrinkles Come. And Let My Liver Rather Heat With Wine, Than My Heart Cool With Mortifying Groans.

Much Rain Wears The Marble.

Love Sees With The Heart And Not With Mind.

But Love, First Learned In A Lady's Eyes, Lives Not Alone Immured In The Brain; But, With The Motion Of All Elements, Courses As Swift As Thought In Every Power, And Gives To Every Power A Double Power, Above Their Functions And Their Offices.

Thou Art A Soul In Bliss; But I Am Bound Upon A Wheel Of Fire; That Mine Own Tears Do Scald Like Molten Lead.

Tell Them, That, To Ease Them Of Their Griefs, Their Fear Of Hostile Strokes, Their Aches, Losses, Their Pangs Of Love, With Other Incident Throes That Nature's Fragile Vessel Doth Sustain In Life's Uncertain Voyage, I Will Some Kindness Do Them.

Twas A Clever Quibble. Here, A Garment For It.

Lord, Lord, How Subject We Old Men Are To This Vice Of Lying!

Value Dwells Not In Particular Will; It Holds His Estimate And Dignity As Well Wherein 'tis Precious Of Itself As In The Prizer.

Brave New World Character

To Die: - To Sleep: No More; And, By A Sleep To Say We End The Heart-ache And The Thousand Natural Shocks That Flesh Is Heir To, 'tis A Consummation Devoutly To Be Wished.

What Power Is It Which Mounts My Love So High, That Makes Me See, And Cannot Feed Mine Eye

If I Could Write The Beauty Of Your Eyes And In Fresh Numbers Number All Your Graces, The Age To Come Would Say, 'this Poet Lies; Such Heavenly Touches Ne'er Touch'd Earthly Faces.'

Be Collected. No More Amazement. Tell Your Piteous Heart There's No Harm Done.

There Is Nothing So Confining As The Prisons Of Our Own Perceptions.

Love's Best Habit Is A Soothing Tongue

Drown Thyself? Drown Cats And Blind Puppies.

I Praise God For You, Sir: Your Reasons At Dinner Have Been Sharp And Sententious; Pleasant Without Scurrility, Witty Without Affectation, Audacious Without Impudency, Learned Without Opinion, And Strange With-out Heresy.

My Glass Shall Not Persuade Me I Am Old, So Long As Youth And Thou Are Of One Date; But When In Thee Time's Furrows I Behold, Then Look I Death My Days Should Expiate.

Do Not For One Repulse, Forego The Purpose That You Resolved To Effect.

Mercy Is Not Itself, That Oft Looks So; Pardon Is Still The Nurse Of Second Woe.

A Man Cannot Make Him Laugh - But That's No Marvel; He Drinks No Wine.

Canst Thou Not Minister To A Mind Diseased, Pluck From The Memory A Rooted Sorrow, Raze Out The Written Troubles Of The Brain

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

I Am A Man More Sinned Against Than Sinning

I Am Sure Care's An Enemy To Life.

If Thou Wilt Lend This Money, Lend It Not As To Thy Friends; For When Did Friendship Take A Breed For Barren Metal Of His Friend?

Merchant Of Venice

I'll Fight, Till From My Bones My Flesh Be Hacked.

Things Done Well And With A Care, Exempt Themselves From Fear.

Some Cupid Kills With Arrows, Some With Traps.

Were I The Moor I Would Not Be Iago. In Following Him I Follow But Myself; Heaven Is My Judge, Not I For Love And Duty, But Seeming So For My Peculiar End. For When My Outward Action Doth Demonstrate The Native Act And Figure Of My Heart In Compliment Extern, ’tis Not Long After But I Will Wear My Heart Upon My Sleeve For Daws To Peck At. I Am Not What I Am

I Am Too Old To Fawn Upon A Nurse, Too Far In Years To Be A Pupil Now.

'sblood, You Starveling, You Elf-skin, You Dried Neat's Tongue, You Bull's Pizzle, You Stock-fish! O For Breath To Utter What Is Like Thee! You Tailor's-yard, You Sheath, You Bowcase; You Vile Standing-tuck!

Gloucester: Yet So Much Is My Poverty Of Spirit, So Mighty And So Many My Defects, As I Had Rather Hide Me From My Greatness, Being A Bark To Brook No Mighty Sea, Than In My Greatness Covet To Be Hid, And In The Vapour Of My Glory Smother'd. But God Be Thanked. . . .

There Is Flattery In Friendship.

Now The Melancholy Of God Protect Thee, And The Tailor Make Thy Doublet Of Changable Taffata, For Thy Mind Is A Very Opal. I Would Have Men Of Such Constancy Put To Sea, That Their Business Might Be Everything, And Their Intent Everywhere, For That's It, That Always Makes A Good Voyage Of Nothing.

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