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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.

-William Shakespeare

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For There Was Never

William Shakespeare

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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.

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To Move Wild Laughter In The Throat Of Death? It Cannot Be; It Is Impossible: Mirth Cannot Move A Soul In Agony.

As Many Arrows, Loosed Several Ways, Come To One Mark...so Many A Thousand Actions, Once Afoot, End In One Purpose.

Golden Lads And Girls All Must As Chimney Sweepers Come To Dust.

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

Base Is The Slave That Pays.

You Cannot Call It Love, For At Your Age The Heyday In The Blood Is Tame

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

Did He So Often Lodge In Open Field, In Winter's Cold And Summer's Parching Heat, To Conquer France, His True Inheritance?

I Understand Thy Kisses, And Thou Mine, And That's A Feeling Disputation.

Hang There Like Fruit, My Soul, Till The Tree Die!

What Need The Bridge Much Broader Than The Flood?

This Liberty Is All That I Request.

The Clock Upbraids Me With The Waste Of Time.

Virtue Preserv'd From Fell Destruction's Blast, Led On By Heaven, And Crown'd With Joy At Last.

I Stand For Judgment: Answer: Shall I Have It?

And To The English Court Assemble Now, From Every Region, Apes Of Idleness!

And Simple Truth Miscalled Simplicity

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

As Good Luck Would Have It.

Go, Bid The Soldiers Shoot.

Infirm Of Purpose! Give Me The Daggers: The Sleeping And The Dead Are But As Pictures: ‘tis The Eye Of Childhood That Fears A Painted Devil

Cannot You Tell That? Every Fool Can Tell That. It Was The Very Day That Young Hamlet Was Born, He That Is Mad And Sent Into England." "ay, Marry, Why Was He Sent Into England?" "why, Because He Was Mad. He Shall Recover His Wits There, Or, If He Do Not, It's No Great Matter There." "why?" "'twill Not Be Seen In Him There. There The Men Are As Mad As He.

Exceeds Man's Might: That Dwells With The Gods Above.

Though Justice Be Thy Plea Consider This, That In The Course Of Justice None Of Us Should See Salvation.

The Means That Heaven Yields Must Be Embraced, And Not Neglected; Else, If Heaven Would, And We Will Not Heaven's Offer, We Refuse The Proffered Means Of Succor And Redress.

Things Won Are Done, Joy's Soul Lies In The Doing.

Leave Us To Our Free Election.

O, Speak Again, Bright Angel! For Thou Art As Glorious To This Night, Being O'er My Head As Is A Winged Messenger Of Heaven

Love Denied Blights The Soul We Owe To God.

Cease To Lament For That Thou Canst Not Help; And Study Help For That Which Thou Lamentest.

Good Luck Lies In Odd Numbers.

Women Are Not In Their Best Fortunes Strong, But Want Will Perjure The Ne'er-touched Vestal.

Preferment Goes By Letter And Affection, And Not By Old Gradation, Where Each Second Stood Heir To Th's First.

Thank Me No Thankings, Nor Proud Me No Prouds.

Zounds! I Was Never So Bethumped With Words Since I First Called My Brother's Father Dad.

Myself--a Prince By Fortune Of My Birth, Near To The King In Blood, And Near In Love Till You Did Make Him Misinterpret Me-- Have Stooped My Neck Under Your Injuries And Sighed My English Breath In Foreign Clouds, Eating The Bitter Bread Of Banishment, Whilst You Have Fed Upon My Signories, Disparked My Parks And Felled My Forest Woods, From My Own Windows Torn My Household Coat, Rased Out My Imprese, Leaving Me No Sign, Save Men's Opinions And My Living Blood, To Show The World I Am A Gentleman.

He Is Well Paid That Is Well Satisfied.

What Is Honour? A Word. What Is In That Word Honour? What Is That Honour? Air. A Trim Reckoning! Who Hath It? He That Died O' Wednesday. Doth He Feel It? No. Doth He Hear It? No.

Great Men Should Drink With Harness On Their Throats.

The Painful Warrior Famous For Fight, After A Thousand Victories, Once Foil'd, Is From The Books Of Honor Razed Quite, And All The Rest Forgot For Which He Toil'd

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

For My Part, If A Lie May Do Thee Grace, I'll Gild It With The Happiest Terms I Have.

You Speak Like A Green Girl / Unsifted In Such Perilous Circumstances.

Hamlet And Ophelia

The Bay-trees In Our Country Are All Withered, And Meteors Fright The Fixèd Stars Of Heaven. The Pale-faced Moon Looks Bloody On The Earth, And Lean-looked Prophets Whisper Fearful Change. Rich Men Look Sad, And Ruffians Dance And Leap; The One In Fear To Lose What They Enjoy, The Other To Enjoy By Rage And War. These Signs Forerun The Death Or Fall Of Kings.

The Poet's Eye, In A Fine Frenzy Rolling, Doth Glance From Heaven To Earth, From Earth To Heaven.

Thriftless Ambition, That Wilt Ravin Up Thine Own Life's Means!

Let The Doors Be Shut Upon Him, That He May Play The Fool No Where But In's Own House.

Every Man Has Business And Desire, Such As It Is.

Let Me Have Men About Me That Are Fat... Yond Cassius Has A Lean And Hungry Look. He Thinks Too Much: Such Men Are Dangerous.

Romeo: I Dreamt A Dream Tonight. Mercutio: And So Did I. Romeo: Well, What Was Yours? Mercutio: That Dreamers Often Lie. Romeo: In Bed Asleep While They Do Dream Things True.

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

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

Steed Threatens Steed, In High And Boastful Neighs Piercing The Night's Dull Ear; And From The Tents The Armorers Accomplishing The Knights, With Busy Hammers Closing Rivets Up, Give Dreadful Note Of Preparation.

By God, I Cannot Flatter, I Do Defy The Tongues Of Soothers! But A Braver Place In My Heart's Love Hath No Man Than Yourself. Nay, Task Me To My Word; Approve Me, Lord.

Like One Who Draws The Model Of A House Beyond His Power To Build It Who, Half Through, Gives O'er, And Leaves His Part-created Cost A Naked Subject To The Weeping Clouds.

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.

Time Travels In Divers Paces With Divers Persons. I'll Tell You Who Time Ambles Withal, Who Time Trots Withal, Who Time Gallops Withal, And Who He Stands Still Withal.

Speak The Speech, I Pray You, As I Pronounce It To You, Trippingly On The Tongue; But If You Mouth It, As Many Of Your Players Do, I Had As Lief The Town-crier Spoke My Lines.

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

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

Promising Is The Very Air O' The Time; It Opens The Eyes Of Expectation.

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

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.

If Ever Thou Shalt Love, In The Sweet Pangs Of It Remember Me; For Such As I Am All True Lovers Are, Unstaid And Skittish In All Motions Else Save In The Constant Image Of The Creature That Is Beloved.

Let Me Not Live, After My Flame Lacks Oil, To Be The Snuff Of Younger Spirits.

I Do Oppose My Patience To His Fury, And Am Arm'd To Suffer, With A Quietness Of Spirit, The Very Tyranny And Rage Of His.

I Swear Again, I Would Not Be A Queen For All The World.

Be Just, And Fear Not.

I Am Never Merry When I Hear Sweet Music.

O, I Have Suffered With Those That I Saw Suffer! A Brave Vessel (who Had No Doubt Some Noble Creature In Her) Dashed All To Pieces! O, The Cry Did Knock Against My Very Heart! Poor Souls, They Perished!

It Is A Familiar Beast To Man, And Signifies Love.

Of All The Flowers, Me Thinks A Rose Is Best.

Here Is A Rural Fellow That Will Not Be Denied Your Highness' Presence: He Brings You Figs.

He Reads Much; He Is A Great Observer And He Looks Quite Through The Deeds Of Men: He Loves No Plays, As Thou Dost, Antony; He Hears No Music; Seldom He Smiles, And Smiles In Such A Sort As If He Mock'd Himself And Scorn'd His Spirit That Could Be Moved To Smile At Any Thing. Such Men As He Be Never At Heart's Ease Whiles They Behold A Greater Than Themselves, And Therefore Are They Very Dangerous.

Out Of This Nettle - Danger - We Pluck This Flower - Safety.

Things In Motion Sooner Catch The Eye Than What Not Stirs.

Not Stepping Over The Bounds Of Modesty.

Nothing Emboldens Sin So Much As Mercy.

Here Was A Caesar! When Comes Such Another?

And She's Fair I Love.

This Is The Very Ecstasy Of Love, Whose Violent Property Ordoes Itself And Leads The Will To Desperate Undertakings.

A Knavish Speech Sleeps In A Fool's Ear.

The World Is Not Thy Friend, Nor The World's Law. - Romeo

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

I Would Fain Die A Dry Death.

I Am A Jew. Hath Not A Jew Eyes? Hath Not A Jew Hands, Organs, Dimensions, Senses, Affections, Passions?

The Venom Clamours Of A Jealous Woman Poison More Deadly Than A Mad Dog's Tooth.

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.

Remuneration! O! That's The Latin Word For Three Farthings

Farewell! Thou Art Too Dear For My Possessing.

All The Contagion Of The South Light On You, You Shames Of Rome! You Herd Of--boils And Plagues Plaster You O'er; That You May Be Abhorr'd Further Than Seen, And One Infect Another Against The Wind A Mile!

Thy Tongue Makes Welsh As Sweet As Ditties Highly Penn'd, Sung By A Fair Queen In A Summer's Bower, With Ravishing Division, To Her Lute.

They Are Sick That Surfeit With Too Much, As They That Starve With Nothing.

Funny Inspirational

Thus Weary Of The World, Away She Hies, And Yokes Her Silver Doves; By Whose Swift Aid Their Mistress Mounted Through The Empty Skies In Her Light Chariot Quickly Is Convey'd; Holding Their Course To Paphos, Where Their Queen Means To Immure Herself And Not Be Seen.

There Is A Tide In The Affairs Of Men, Which Taken At The Flood, Leads On To Fortune. Omitted, All The Voyage Of Their Life Is Bound In Shallows And In Miseries. On Such A Full Sea Are We Now Afloat. And We Must Take The Current When It Serves, Or Lose Our Ventures.

I Crave Fit Disposition For My Wife; Due Reference Of Place, And Exhibition; With Such Accommodation, And Besort, As Levels With Her Breeding.

...too Much Sadness Hath Congealed Your Blood,and Melancholy Is The Nurse Of Frenzy.

World, World, O World! But That Thy Strange Mutations Make Us Hate Thee/ Life Would Not Yield To Age.

Love Is A Spirit All Compact Of Fire.

Therefore I Tell My Sorrows To The Stones; Who, Though They Cannot Answer My Distress, Yet In Some Sort They Are Better Than The Tribunes, For That They Will Not Intercept My Tale: When I Do Weep, They Humbly At My Feet Receive My Tears And Seem To Weep With Me; And, Were They But Attired In Grave Weeds, Rome Could Afford No Tribune Like To These.

Speak To Me As To Thy Thinkings, As Thou Dost Ruminate, And Give Thy Worst Of Thoughts The Worst Of Words.

Twere To Consider Too Curiously, To Consider So.

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

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

Denmark In Hamlet

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

Prepare For Mirth, For Mirth Becomes A Feast.

Why, Thou Knowest I Am As Valiant As Hercules, But Beware Instinct. The Lion Will Not Touch The True Prince. Instinct Is A Great Matter. I Was A Coward On Instinct.

The Elephant Hath Joints, But None For Courtesy; His Legs Are Legs For Necessity, Not For Flexure.

Even Through The Hollow Eyes Of Death I Spy Life Peering.

Ingratitude Is Monstrous; And For The Multitude To Be Ingrateful Were To Make A Monster Of The Multitude; Of Which We Being Members, Should Bring Ourselves To Be Monstrous Members.

Men At Sometime Are The Masters Of Their Fate.

Think'st Thou It Honourable For A Noble Man Still To Remember Wrongs?

Is This The Generation Of Love? Hot Blood, Hot Thoughts And Hot Deeds? Why, They Are Vipers. Is Love A Generation Of Vipers?

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.

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

The King-becoming Graces, As Justice, Verity, Temp'rance, Stableness, Bounty, Perseverance, Mercy, Lowliness, Devotion, Patience, Courage, Fortitude, I Have No Relish Of Them, But Abound In The Division Of Each Several Crime, Acting In Many Ways.

Much Rain Wears The Marble.

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

Time Hath Not Yet So Dried This Blood Of Mine, Nor Age So Eat Up My Invention, Nor Fortune Made Such Havoc Of My Means, Nor My Bad Life Reft Me So Much Of Friends, But They Shall Find Awaked In Such A Kind Both Strength Of Limb And Policy Of Mind, Ability In Means, And Choice Of Friends, To Quit Me Of Them Throughly.

If I Be Waspish, Best Beware My Sting.

He Was Met Even Now As Mad As The Vex'd Sea; Singing Aloud; Crown'd With Rank Fumiter And Furrow-weeds, With Bur-docks, Hemlock, Nettles, Cuckoo-flowers, Darnel, And All The Idle Weeds That Grow In Our Sustaining Corn.

I Scorn You, Scurvy Companion.

Weary With Toil, I Haste Me To My Bed The Dear Repose For Limbs With Travel Tired; But Then Begins A Journey In My Head To Work My Mind, When Body's Work's Expir'd: For Then My Thoughts-from Far Where I Abide- Intend A Zealous Pilgrimage To Thee, And Keep My Drooping Eyelids Open Wide, Looking On Darkness Which The Blind Do See: Save That My Soul's Imaginary Sight Presents Thy Shadow To My Sightless View, Which, Like A Jewel Hung In Ghastly Night, Makes Black Night Beauteous And Her Old Face New. Lo! Thus, By Day My Limbs, By Night My Mind, For Thee, And For Myself No Quiet Find.

In Scorn Of Nature, Art Gave Lifeless Life.

Don Pedro - (...)'in Time The Savage Bull Doth Bear The Yoke.' Benedick - The Savage Bull May, But If Ever The Sensible Benedick Bear It, Pluck Off The Bull's Horns And Set Them In My Forehead, And Let Me Be Vildly Painted; And In Such Great Letters As They Writes, 'here Is Good Horse For Hire', Let Them Signify Under My Sign, 'here You May See Benedick The Married Man.

Fairies, Black, Grey, Green, And White, You Moonshine Revellers, And Shades Of Night, You Orphan Heirs Of Fixed Destiny, Attend Your Office And Your Quality.

We Are The Lords Of All Eternity

Love Is Like A Child, That Longs For Everything It Can Come By

Gold Were As Good As Twenty Orators.

Why Should Honor Outlive Honestly? Orthello

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

Enjoy'd No Sooner But Despised Straight, Past Reason Hunted, And No Sooner Had Past Reason Hated

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

Nothing Can Seem Foul To Those Who Win.

Such Men As He Be Never At Heart's Ease Whiles They Behold A Greater Than Themselves, And Therefore Are They Very Dangerous.

Bell, Book And Candle Shall Not Drive Me Back, When Gold And Silver Becks Me To Come On.

How Sometimes Nature Will Betray Its Folly, Its Tenderness, And Make Itself A Pastime To Harder Bosoms!

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.

An Earnest Conjuration From The King, As England Was His Faithful Tributary, As Love Between Them Like The Palm Might Flourish, As Peace Should Still Her Wheaten Garland Wear And Stand A Comma 'tween Their Amities, And Many Such-like As's Of Great Charge, That, On The View And Knowing Of These Contents, Without Debatement Further, More Or Less, He Should The Bearers Put To Sudden Death, Not Shriving Time Allow'd.

Open Thy Gate Of Mercy, Gracious God, My Soul Flies Through These Wounds To Seek Out Thee.

What Though Care Killed A Cat, Thou Hast Mettle Enough In Thee To Kill Care.

Love Is Blind, It Stops Lovers Seeing The Silly Things They Do.

The End Crowns All, And That Old Common Arbitrator, Time, Will One Day End It.

Titus Andronicus, My Lord The Emperor Sends Thee This Word, That, If Thou Love Thy Sons, Let Marcus, Lucius, Or Thyself, Old Titus, Or Any One Of You, Chop Off Your Hand And Send It To The King: He For The Same Will Send Thee Hither Both Thy Sons Alive, And That Shall Be The Ransom For Their Fault.

Cheerily To Sea; The Signs Of War Advance: No King Of England, If Not King Of France

Tell Me, Daughter Juliet, How Stands Your Dispositions To Be Married" It Is An Honor That I Dream Not Of

Lady, With Me, With Me Thy Fortune Lies.

Barnes Are Blessings.

And Oftentimes, To Win Us To Our Harm, The Instruments Of Darkness Tell Us Truths, Win Us With Honest Trifles, To Betray's In Deepest Consequence

Feed On Her Damask Cheek: She Pined In Thought, And With A Green And Yellow Melancholy She Sat Like Patience On A Monument, Smiling At Grief

Give Thanks For What You Are Today And Go On Fighting For What You Gone Be Tomorrow

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?

Were It My Cue To Fight, I Should Have Known It Without A Prompter.

They Are Hare-brain'd Slaves.

O Hell! To Choose Love With Another's Eye.

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

Too Much To Know Is To Know Nought But Fame; And Every Godfather Can Give A Name.

The Bitter Past, More Welcome Is The Sweet.

Cowards Die Many Times Before Their Deaths; The Valiant Never Taste Of Death But Once.

The Love Of Heaven Makes One Heavenly.

I Had Rather Be A Toad, And Live Upon The Vapor Of A Dungeon Than Keep A Corner In The Thing I Love For Others Uses.

For Grief Is Crowned With Consolation.

A Man Cannot Make Him Laugh; But That's No Marvel; He Drinks No Wine.... If I Had A Thousand Sons, The First Human Principle I Would Teach Them Should Be, To Forswear Thin Potations And To Addict Themselves To Sack.

If Love Be Blind, It Best Agrees With Night

The Robbed That Smiles, Steals Something From The Thief.

To Be Now A Sensible Man, By And By A Fool, And Presently A Beast!

And To Be Merry Best Becomes You; For, Out Of Question, You Were Born In A Merry Hour. Beatrice No, Sure, My Lord, My Mother Cried; But Then There Was A Star Danced, And Under That Was I Born.

Jesters Do Oft Prove Prophets.

The Last Taste Of Sweets Is Sweetest Last.

Therefore It Is Most Expedient For The Wise, If Don Worm (his Conscience) Find No Impediment To The Contrary, To Be The Trumpet Of His Own Virtues, As I Am To Myself.

That Which Is Now A Horse, Even With A Thought The Rack Dislimms, And Makes It Indistinct As Water Is In Water

When The Age Is In, The Wit Is Out

An Habitation Giddy And Unsure Hath He That Buildeth On The Vulgar Heart.

She Is A Woman, Therefore To Be Won.

Promising Is The Very Air O' Th' Time; It Opens The Eyes Of Expectation. Performance Is Ever Duller For His Act; And, But In The Plainer And Simpler Kind Of People, The Deed Of Saying Is Quite Out Of Use. To Promise Is Most Courtly And Fashionable; Performance Is A Kind Of Will Or Testament Which Argues A Great Sickness In His Judgment That Makes It.

Oh, How This Spring Of Love Resembleth, The Uncertain Glory Of An April Day, Which Now Shows All Beauty Of The Sun, And By And By A Cloud Takes All Away

Love Is Not Love That Alters When It Alteration Finds.

The Fewer Men, The Greater Share Of Honor.

But When I Came, Alas, To Wive, With Hey, Ho, The Wind And The Rain, By Swaggering Could I Never Thrive, For The Rain It Raineth Every Day.

But As The Unthought-on Accident Is Guilty To What We Wildly Do, So We Profess Ourselves To Be The Slaves Of Chance, And Flies Of Every Wind That Blows.

Fight To The Last Gasp.

This Above All; To Thine Own Self Be True.

Pray You Now, Forget And Forgive.

Forgive And Forget

Now Is The Winter Of Our Discontent.

Merchant Of Venice

Glory Is Like A Circle In The Water

The Prize Of All Too Precious You.

For Now I Stand As One Upon A Rock Environed With A Wilderness Of Sea, Who Marks The Waxing Tide Grow Wave By Wave, Expecting Ever When Some Envious Surge Will In His Brinish Bowels Swallow Him.

O, Train Me Not, Sweet Mermaid, With Thy Note, To Drown Me In Thy Sister’s Flood Of Tears.

How Sweet The Moonlight Sleeps Upon This Bank! Here Will We Sit, And Let The Sounds Of Music Creep In Our Ears; Soft Stillness And The Night Become The Touches Of Sweet Harmony. Sit, Jessica: Look, How The Floor Of Heaven Is Thick Inlaid With Patines Of Bright Gold; There's Not The Smallest Orb Which Thou Behold'st But In His Motion Like An Angel Sings, Still Quiring To The Young-eyed Cherubins. Such Harmony Is In Immortal Souls; But Whilst This Muddy Vesture Of Decay Doth Grossly Close It In, We Cannot Hear It.

It Is Great Sin To Swear Unto A Sin, But Greater Sin To Keep A Sinful Oath.

Remembrance Of Things Past.

We That Are True Lovers Run Into Strange Capers.

Take It In What Sense Thou Wilt.

Romeo And Juliet Play

Affliction Is Enamoured Of Thy Parts, And Thou Art Wedded To Calamity.

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

All Pity Choked With Custom Of Fell Deeds.

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

For This Relief, Much Thanks

Let Me Not To The Marriage Of True Minds Admit Impediments: Love Is Not Love Which Alters When It Alteration Finds.

Is This A Dagger Which I See Before Me, The Handle Toward My Hand? Come, Let Me Clutch Thee. I Have Thee Not, And Yet I See Thee Still. Art Thou Not, Fatal Vision, Sensible To Feeling As To Sight? Or Art Thou But A Dagger Of The Mind, A False Creation, Proceeding From The Heat-oppressed Brain?

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