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From This Day To The Ending Of The World, But We In It Shall Be Remembered- We Few, We Happy Few, We Band Of Brothers; For He To-day That Sheds His Blood With Me Shall Be My Brother; Be He Ne’er So Vile, This Day Shall Gentle His Condition; And Gentlemen In England Now-a-bed Shall Think Themselves Accurs’d They Were Not Here, And Hold Their Manhoods Cheap Whiles Any Speaks That Fought With Us Upon Saint Crispin’s Day.

-William Shakespeare

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From This Day To

William Shakespeare

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From This Day To The Ending Of The World, But We In It Shall Be Remembered- We Few, We Happy Few, We Band Of Brothers; For He To-day That Sheds His Blood With Me Shall Be My Brother; Be He Ne’er So Vile, This Day Shall Gentle His Condition; And Gentlemen In England Now-a-bed Shall Think Themselves Accurs’d They Were Not Here, And Hold Their Manhoods Cheap Whiles Any Speaks That Fought With Us Upon Saint Crispin’s Day.

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

Honour Travels In A Strait So Narrow Where One But Goes Abreast.

O God, That Men Should Put An Enemy In Their Mouths To Steal Away Their Brains!" - Cassio (act Ii, Scene Iii)

Say, Thou Art Mine; And Ever, My Love, As It Begins, Shall So Persevere

There's No Better Sign Of A Brave Mind Than A Hard Hand.

Suit The Action To The Word : The Word To The Action : With This Special Observance That You O'erstep Not The Modesty Of Nature.

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

Should The Poor Be Flattered? No; Let The Candied Tongue Lick Absurd Pomp, And Crook The Pregnant Hinges Of The Knee Where Thrift May Follow Fawning.

Nay, Do Not Think I Flatter. For What Advancement May I Hope From Thee, That No Revenue Hast But Thy Good Spirits To Feed And Clothe Thee? Why Should The Poor Be Flattered?

Love Is Familiar. Love Is A Devil. There Is No Evil Angel But Love." -

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

Antonio: Will You Stay No Longer? Nor Will You Not That I Go With You? Sebastian: By Your Patience, No. My Stars Shine Darkly Over Me; The Malignancy Of My Fate Might, Perhaps, Distemper Yours; Therefore I Shall Crave Of You Your Leave That I May Bear My Evils Alone. It Were A Bad Recompense For Your Love To Lay Any Of Them On You.

Though Yet Of Hamlet Our Dear Brother's Death The Memory Be Green.

There's Some Ill Planet Reigns: I Must Be Patient Till The Heavens Look With An Aspect More Favourable.

He Hath Disgrac'd Me And Hind'red Me Half A Million; Laugh'd At My Losses, Mock'd At My Gains, Scorned My Nation, Thwarted My Bargains, Cooled My Friends, Heated My Enemies. And What's His Reason? I Am A Jew.

I Am Wealthy In My Friends.

Your Lordship, Though Not Clean Past Your Youth, Have Yet Some Smack Of Age In You, Some Relish Of The Saltiness Of Time.

Ill Deeds Are Doubled With An Evil Word.

Faster Than Spring-time Showers Comes Thought On Thought.

All Lovers Swear More Performance Than They Are Able, And Yet Reserve An Ability That They Never Perform; Vowing More Than The Perfection Of Ten, And Discharging Less Than The Tenth Part Of One.

Neither A Borrower Nor A Lender Be, For Loan Oft Loses Both Itself And Friend, And Borrowing Dulls The Edge Of Husbandry.

The Labor We Delight In Physics [cures] Pain.

What A Fool Honesty Is.

I Know A Lady In Venice Would Have Walked Barefoot To Palestine For A Touch Of His Nether Lip

Mine Honour Is My Life; Both Grow In One; Take Honour From Me, And My Life Is Done.

Nay, Had I Pow'r, I Should Pour The Sweet Milk Of Concord Into Hell, Uproar The Universal Peace, Confound All Unity On Earth.

I Will Through And Through Cleanse The Foul Body Of Th' Infected World, If They Will Patiently Receive My Medicine.

Why What A Fool Was I To This Drunken Monster For A God. - Caliban

Is This Government Of Britain's Isle, And This The Royalty Of Albion's King?

You Have Witchcraft In Your Lips, There Is More Eloquence In A Sugar Touch Of Them Than In The Tongues Of The French Council; And They Should Sooner Persuade Harry Of England Than A General Petition Of Monarchs.

Not All The Water In The Rough Rude Sea Can Wash The Balm From An Anointed King.

There's Never A Villain Dwelling In All Denmark But He's An Arrant Knave.

These Are The Forgeries Of Jealousy; And Never, Since The Middle Summer's Spring, Met We On Hill, In Dale, Forest, Or Mead, By Paved Fountain Or By Rushy Brook, Or In The Beached Margent Of The Sea, To Dance Our Ringlets To The Whistling Wind, But With Thy Brawls Thou Hast Disturbed Our Sport.

Blessed Are The Peacemakers On Earth.

Come Away, Come Away, Death, And In Sad Cypress Let Me Be Laid; Fly Away, Fly Away, Breath, I Am Slain By A Fair Cruel Maid. My Shroud Of White Stuck All With Yew, O Prepare It! My Part Of Death No One So True Did Share It. Not A Flower, Not A Flower Sweet, On My Black Coffin Let There Be Strewn: Not A Friend, Not A Friend Greet My Poor Corpse, Where My Bones Shall Be Thrown. A Thousand Thousand Sighs To Save, Lay Me O Where Sad True Lover Never Find My Grave, To Weep There!

Our Content Is Our Best Having.

In Nature's Infinite Book Of Secrecy A Little I Can Read.

Leonato Well, Niece, I Hope To See You One Day Fitted With A Husband. Beatrice Not Till God Make Men Of Some Other Metal Than Earth. Would It Not Grieve A Woman To Be Overmastered With A Pierce Of Valiant Dust? To Make An Account Of Her Life To A Clod Of Wayward Marl? No, Uncle, I'll None: Adam's Sons Are My Brethren; And, Truly, I Hold It A Sin To Match In My Kindred.

There's Villainous News Abroad.

For Brutus, As You Know, Was Caesar's Angel: Judge, O You Gods, How Dearly Caesar Loved Him! This Was The Most Unkindest Cut Of All

Youth To Itself Rebels, Though None Else Near.

All Places That The Eye Of Heaven Visits Are To A Wise Man Ports And Happy Havens. Teach Thy Necessity To Reason Thus; There Is No Virtue Like Necessity.

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

I Will Go Wash; And When My Face Is Fair, You Shall Perceive Whether I Blush Or No.

Being Daily Swallowed By Men's Eyes, They Surfeited With Honey And Began To Loathe The Taste Of Sweetness, Whereof A Little More Than A Little Is By Much Too Much. So, When He Had Occasion To Be Seen, He Was But As The Cuckoo Is In June. Heard, Not Regarded.

Love's Mind Of Judgment Rarely Hath A Taste: Wings And No Eyes Figure Unheedy Haste.

All The World's A Stage ... And You Better Have A Zoning Variance Or It's Coming Down.

The Weary Sun Hath Made A Golden Set And By The Bright Tract Of His Fiery Car Gives Token Of A Goodly Day To-morrow.

Ne'er Ask Me What Raiment I'll Wear, For I Have No More Doublets Than Backs, No More Stockings Than Legs, Nor No More Shoes Than Feet--nay, Sometime More Feet Than Shoes, Or Such Shoes As My Toes Look Through The Overleather.

For In That Sleep Of Death What Dreams May Come.

Thanks, Sir; All The Rest Is Mute.

Time Is The Old Justice That Examines All Such Offenders, And Let Time Try.

To Climb Steep Hills Requires A Slow Pace At First.

It Is Lost At Dice, What Ancient Honor Won.

But, Soft! What Light Through Yonder Window Breaks? It Is The East, And Juliet Is The Sun. Arise, Fair Sun, And Kill The Envious Moon, Who Is Already Sick And Pale With Grief, That Thou, Her Maid, Art Far More Fair Than She. Be Not Her Maid, Since She Is Envious; Her Vestal Livery Is But Sick And Green And None But Fools Do Wear It; Cast It Off. It Is My Lady, O, It Is My Love! Oh, That She Knew She Were!

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

I Will Make Thee Think Thy Swan A Crow.

These Blessed Candles Of The Night.

Merchant Of Venice

Th Abuse Of Greatness Is When It Disjoins Remorse From Power.

Time's Glory Is To Command Contending Kings, To Unmask Falsehood, And Bring Truth To Light.

I Hold The World But As The World, Gratiano; A Stage Where Every Man Must Play A Part, And Mine Is A Sad One.

Too Much To Know Is To Know Naught But Fame.

Verily, I Swear, It Is Better To Be Lowly Born, And Range With Humble Livers In Content, Than To Be Perked Up In A Glistering Grief, And Wear A Golden Sorrow.

Young Adam Cupid, He That Shot So Trim, When King Cophetua Loved The Beggar-maid!

Sweetest Nut Hath Sourest Rind.

Now He'll Outstare The Lightning. To Be Furious Is To Be Frightened Out Of Fear.

When Devils Will The Blackest Sins Put On They Do Suggest At First With Heavenly Shows

Yet Writers Say, As In The Sweetest Bud The Eating Canter Dwells, So Eating Love Inhabits In The Finest Wits Of All.

When That Churl Death My Bones With Dust Shall Cover.

Trust Not My Reading, Nor My Observations, Which With Experimental Seal Do Warrant The Tenor Of My Book.

Neither A Borrower Nor A Lender Be.

Virtue Itself Scapes Not Calumnious Strokes.

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

O' Thinkest Thou We Shall Ever Meet Again? I Doubt It Not; And All These Woes Shall Serve For Sweet Discourses In Our Times To Come.

What The Great Ones Do, The Less Will Prattle Of

Though Now This Grained Face Of Mine Be Hid In Sap-consuming Winter's Drizzled Snow, And All The Conduits Of My Blood Froze Up, Yet Hath My Night Of Life Some Memory, My Wasting Lamps Some Fading Glimmer Left, My Dull Deaf Ears A Little Use To Hear.

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.

Thus Is His Cheek The Map Of Days Outworn.

Cease Thy Counsel, For Thy Words Fall Into My Ears As Priceless As Water Into A Seive.

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

I'll Privily Away; I Love The People, But Do Not Like To Stage Me To Their Eyes; Though It Do Well, I Do Not Relish Well Their Loud Applause And Aves Vehement, Nor Do I Think The Man Of Safe Discretion That Does Not Affect It.

Thine Eyes I Love, And They As Pitying Me, Knowing Thy Heart Torment Me With Disdain, Have Put On Black, And Loving Mourners Be, Looking With Pretty Ruth Upon My Pain.

Music, Moody Food Of Us That Trade In Love.

Go Hang Yourself, You Naughty Mocking Uncle!

Let Me Be Boiled To Death With Melancholy.

I Do Love Nothing In The World So Well As You- Is Not That Strange?

The Hand That Hath Made You Fair Hath Made You Good.

So May I, Blind Fortune Leading Me, Miss That Which One Unworthier May Attain, And Die With Grieving.

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

Thou Know'st 'tis Common; All That Lives Must Die, Passing Through Nature To Eternity.

Love Comforteth Like Sunshine After Rain, But Lust's Effect Is Tempest After Sun; Love's Gentle Spring Doth Always Fresh Remain, Lust's Winter Comes Ere Summer Half Be Done; Love Surfeits Not, Lust Like A Glutton Dies; Love Is All Truth, Lust Full Of Forged Lies.

When Remedies Are Past, The Griefs Are Ended By Seeing The Worst, Which Late On Hopes Depended. To Mourn A Mischief That Is Past And Gone Is The Next Way To Draw New Mischief On. What Cannot Be Preserved When Fortune Takes, Patience Her Injury A Mockery Makes. The Robb'd That Smiles Steals Something For The Thief; He Robs Himself That Spends A Bootless Grief.

It Is My Lady! *sighs* O, It Is My Love! O, That She Knew She Were! She Speaks, Yet She Sais Nothing. What Of That? Her Eye Discourses; I Will Answer It. I Am Too Bold, 'tis Not To Me She Speaks; Two Of The Fairest Stars In All The Heaven, Having Some Business, Do Entreat Her Eyes To Twinkle In Their Spheres Till They Return.

When Rich Villains Have Need Of Poor Ones, Poor Ones May Make What Price They Will

Rumour Is A Pipe Blown By Surmises, Jealousies, Conjectures And Of So Easy And So Plain A Stop That The Blunt Monster With Uncounted Heads, The Still-discordant Wavering Multitude, Can Play Upon It.

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

I Scorn You, Scurvy Companion.

They Say Best Men Are Molded Out Of Faults, And, For The Most, Become Much More The Better For Being A Little Bad

O, Grief Hath Changed Me Since You Saw Me Last, And Careful Hours With Time's Deformed Hand Have Written Strange Defeatures In My Face. But Tell Me Yet, Dost Thou Not Know My Voice?

My Prophecy Is But Half His Journey Yet, For Yonder Walls, That Pertly Front Your Town, Yon Towers, Whose Wanton Tops Do Buss The Clouds, Must Kiss Their Own Feet.

Now, God Be Praised, That To Believing Souls Gives Light In Darkness, Comfort In Despair.

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.

Unnatural Deeds Do Breed Unnatural Troubles.

The Appurtenance Of Welcome Is Fashion And Ceremony.

Why, All Delights Are Vain; But That Most Vain, Which, With Pain Purchas'd, Doth Inherit Pain.

Weed Your Better Judgments Of All Opinion That Grows Rank In Them.

Love Is A Smoke Rais'd With The Fume Of Sighs; Being Purg'd, A Fire Sparkling In Lovers' Eyes; Being Vex'd, A Sea Nourish'd With Lovers' Tears; What Is It Else? A Madness Most Discreet, A Choking Gall, And A Preserving Sweet.

Well, God's Above All; And There Be Souls Must Be Saved, And There Be Souls Must Not Be Saved.

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

Now Get You To My Lady's Chamber, And Tell Her, Let Her Paint An Inch Thick, To This Favour She Must Come; Make Her Laugh At That.

Important Hamlet

Here Come The Lovers, Full Of Joy And Mirth.— Joy, Gentle Friends! Joy And Fresh Days Of Love Accompany Your Hearts!

Is He On His Horse? O Happy Horse, To Bear The Weight Of Antony!

You May My Glories And My State Depose, But Not My Griefes; Still Am I King Of Those.

Old Time The Clock-setter.

Yet But Three Come One More. Two Of Both Kinds Make Up Four. Ere She Comes Curst And Sad. Cupid Is A Knavish Lad. Thus To Make Poor Females Mad.

O, She's Warm! If This Be Magic, Let It Be An Art Lawful As Eating.

Supposition All Our Lives Shall Be Stuck Full Of Eyes; For Treason Is But Trusted Like The Fox, Who, Ne'er So Tame, So Cherished And Locked Up, Will Have A Wild Trick Of His Ancestors.

And She's Fair I Love.

I Cannot Speak Your England.

For This, Be Sure, Tonight Thou Shalt Have Cramps, Side-stitches That Shall Pen Thy Breath Up. Urchins Shall Forth At Vast Of Night That They May Work All Exercise On Thee. Thou Shalt Be Pinched As Thick As Honeycomb, Each Pinch More Stinging Than Bees That Made 'em.

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

I Am Disgraced, Impeached, And Baffled Here, Pierced To The Soul With Slander's Venomed Spear.

Who Would Be So Mocked With Glory, Or To Live But In A Dream Of Friendship, To Have His Pomp And All What State Compounds But Only Painted, Like His Varnished Friends?

Thou Speak'st Like Him's Untutored To Repeat: Who Makes The Fairest Show Means Most Deceit.

What E'er You Are That In This Desert Inaccessible, Under The Shade Of Melancholy Boughs, Lose And Neglect The Creeping Hours Of Time.

The Amity That Wisdom Knits Not, Folly May Easily Untie.

I Would Not Lose So Great An Honor As One Man More Methinks Would Share With Me For The Best Hope I Have.

Flout 'em, And Scout 'em; And Scout 'em, And Flout 'em; / Thought Is Free.

Reason Thus With Life: If I Do Lose Thee, I Do Lose A Thing That None But Fools Would Keep.

O! She Doth Teach The Torches To Burn Bright It Seems She Hangs Upon The Cheek Of Night Like A Rich Jewel In An Ethiop's Ear; Beauty Too Rich For Use, For Earth Too Dear. - Romeo -

Oft Have I Heard That Grief Softens The Mind And Makes It Fearful And Degenerate.

I'll Be Supposed Upon A Book, His Face Is The Worst Thing About Him.

Measure For Measure

O Excellent! I Love Long Life Better Than Figs.

The Brain May Devise Laws For The Blood, But A Hot Temper Leaps O'er A Cold Decree.

It Is Held That Valor Is The Chiefest Virtue, And Most Dignifies The Haver.

A Happy Ending Cannot Come In The Middle Of The Story

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

Sometimes, Less Is More.

Frailty, Thy Name Is Woman!

The Force Of His Own Merit Makes His Way-a Gift That Heaven Gives For Him.

Stay, My Lord, And Let Your Reason With Your Choler Question What 'tis You Go About: To Climb Steep Hills Requires Slow Pace At First: Anger Is Like A Full-hot Horse, Who Being Allow'd His Way, Self-mettle Tires Him. Not A Man In England Can Advise Me Like You: Be To Yourself As You Would To Your Friend.

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

Art Made Tongue-tied By Authority.

Censorship In Books

Censoring Books

There's No Art To Find The Mind's Construction In The Face.

Words, Words, Mere Words, No Matter From The Heart.

This Above All; To Thine Own Self Be True.

Those That Are Good Manners At The Court Are As Ridiculous In The Country, As The Behavior Of The Country Is Most Mockable At The Court.

The Sudden Hand Of Death Close Up Mine Eye!

At Christmas I No More Desire A Rose Than Wish A Snow In May's New-fangled Mirth; But Like Of Each Thing That In Season Grows.

As You From Crimes Would Pardon'd Be, Let Your Indulgence Set Me Free.

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.

To Sleep Perchance To Dream

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.

Why, Then The World ’s Mine Oyster, Which I With Sword Will Open.

Be As Just And Gracious Unto Me, As I Am Confident And Kind To Thee.

She Is A Woman, Therefore To Be Won.

I Am Bewitched With The Rogue's Company. If The Rascal Have Not Given Me Medicines To Make Me Love Him, I'll Be Hanged.

Mine Eyes Were Not In Fault, For She Was Beautiful; Mine Ears, That Heard Her Flattery; Nor My Heart, That Thought Her Like Her Seeming. It Had Been Vicious To Have Mistrusted Her.

I Will Be Brief. Your Noble Son Is Mad.

The Most Peerless Piece Of Earth, I Think, That E' Er The Sun Shone Bright On.

Why Then, O Brawling Love! O Loving Hate! O Any Thing, Of Nothing First Create! O Heavy Lightness, Serious Vanity, Misshapen Chaos Of Well-seeming Forms, Feather Of Lead, Bright Smoke, Cold Fire, Sick Health, Still-waking Sleep, That Is Not What It Is! This Love Feel I, That Feel No Love In This.

Unrequited Love

I Have Touch'd The Highest Point Of All My Greatness, And From That Full Meridian Of My Glory I Haste Now To My Setting.

Twere To Consider Too Curiously, To Consider So.

I Am Indeed Not Her Fool, But Her Corrupter Of Words. (act Iii, Sc. I, 37-38)

Twelfth Night Important

A Sentence Is But A Cheveril Glove To A Good Wit; How Quickly The Wrong Side May Be Turned Outward!

Having Nothing, Nothing Can He Lose.

Let None Presume To Wear An Undeserved Dignity.

Sweets With Sweets War Not, Joy Delights In Joy.

The Fringed Curtains Of Thine Eye Advance, And Say What Thou Seest Yond.

Gonzalo From Tempest

And Therefore Is Love Said To Be A Child, Because In Choice He Is So Oft Beguil'd

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.

Were Beauty Under Twenty Locks Kept Fast, Yet Love Breaks Through And Picks Them All At Last.

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

How Art Thou Out Of Breath When Thou Hast Breath To Say To Me That Thou Art Out Of Breath?

The Sweetest Honey Is Loathsome In His Own Deliciousness, And In The Taste Confounds The Appetite: Therefore Love Moderately— Long Love Doth So.

From This Day To The Ending Of The World, But We In It Shall Be Remembered- We Few, We Happy Few, We Band Of Brothers; For He To-day That Sheds His Blood With Me Shall Be My Brother; Be He Ne’er So Vile, This Day Shall Gentle His Condition; And Gentlemen In England Now-a-bed Shall Think Themselves Accurs’d They Were Not Here, And Hold Their Manhoods Cheap Whiles Any Speaks That Fought With Us Upon Saint Crispin’s Day.

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

Out, Damned Spot! Out, I Say! One: Two: Why, Then 'tis Time To Do't. Hell Is Murky!

The Fear's As Bad As Falling.

A Goodly Portly Man, I' Faith, And A Corpulent; Of A Cheerful Look, A Pleasing Eye, And A Most Noble Carriage; And, As I Think, His Age Some Fifty, Or, By'r Lady, Inclining To Threescore; And Now I Remember Me, His Name Is Falstaff.

Oh, That Way Madness Lies; Let Me Shun That.

What's To Come Is Still Unsure: In Delay There Lies No Plenty; Then Come Kiss Me, Sweet And Twenty, Youth's A Stuff Will Not Endure.

Nor Age So Eat Up My Invention.

Their Savage Eyes Turned To A Modest Gaze By The Sweet Power Of Music.

Most Dangerous Is That Temptation That Doth Goad Us On To Sin In Loving Virtue.

Come Give Us A Taste Of Your Quality.

For They Are Yet Ear-kissing Arguments.

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

There's Nothing In This World Can Make Me Joy.

It Is A Tale Told By An Idiot, Full Of Sound And Fury; Signifying Nothing.

The Devil Knew What He Did When He Made Men Politic; He Crossed Himself By It.

Allow Not Nature More Than Nature Needs.

Some Are Born Great, Some Achieve Greatness, And Some Have Greatness Thrust Upon Them.

Things Are Often Spoke And Seldom Meant.

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

Fear Not, Cesario, Take Thy Fortunes Up. Be That Thou Know'st Thou Art And Then Thou Art As Great As That Thou Fear'st.

When To The Sessions Of Sweet Silent Thought I Summon Up Remembrance Of Things Past, I Sigh The Lack Of Many A Thing I Sought.

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

Now The Good Gods Forbid That Our Renowned Rome, Whose Gratitude Towards Her Deserved Children Is Enrolled In Jove's Own Book, Like An Unnatural Dam Should Now Eat Up Her Own!

It Is Silliness To Live When To Live Is Torment, And Then Have We A Prescription To Die When Death Is Our Physician.

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