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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?

-William Shakespeare

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Hath Not A Jew

William Shakespeare

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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?

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A Knavish Speech Sleeps In A Fool's Ear.

Doubt Is A Thief That Often Makes Us Fear To Tread Where We Might Have Won.

Foul Words Is But Foul Wind, And Foul Wind Is But Foul Breath, And Foul Breath Is Noisome; Therefore I Will Depart Unkissed.

Mine Eyes Smell Onions: I Shall Weep Anon.

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

[marriage Is] A World-without-end Bargain.

More Of Your Conversation Would Infect My Brain.

A Lover's Eyes Will Gaze An Eagle Blind.

The Undeserver May Sleep When The Man Of Action Is Called On.

Men Must Learn Now With Pity To Dispense; For Policy Sits Above Conscience.

Princes Have But Their Titles For Their Glories, An Outward Honor For An Inward Toil; And, For Unfelt Imaginations, They Often Feel A World Of Restless Cares.

Look To Her, Moor, If Thou Has Eyes To See. She Has Deceived Her Father, And May Thee.

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.

By The Pricking Of My Thumbs, Something Wicked This Way Comes.

My Pride Fell With My Fortunes.

A Scar Nobly Got Is A Good Livery Of Honor.

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

Conceal Me What I Am, And Be My Aid For Such Disguise As Haply Shall Become The Form Of My Intent.

My Hounds Are Bred Out Of The Spartan Kind; So Flew'd, So Sanded; Their Heads Are Hung With Ears That Sweep Away The Morning Dew.

If After Every Tempest Come Such Calms, May The Winds Blow Till They Have Waken'd Death!

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

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

He Was Too Good To Be Where Ill Men Were, And Was The Best Of All Amongst The Rar'st Of Good Ones- Sitting Sadly Hearing Us Praise Our Loves Of Italy For Beauty That Made Barren The Swell'd Boast Of Him That Best Could Speak; For Feature, Laming The Shrine Of Venus Or Straight-pight Minerva, Postures Beyond Brief Nature; For Condition, A Shop Of All The Qualities That Man Loves Woman For; Besides That Hook Of Wiving, Fairness Which Strikes The Eye- Cymbeline.

I Have Very Poor And Unhappy Brains For Drinking: I Could Well Wish Courtesy Would Invent Some Other Custom Of Entertainment.

Once More Unto The Breach, Dear Friends, Once More; Or Close The Wall Up With Our English Dead! In Peace There's Nothing So Becomes A Man As Modest Stillness And Humility: But When The Blast Of War Blows In Our Ears, Then Imitate The Action Of The Tiger.

All Impediments In Fancy's Course Are Motives Of More Fancy.

I Thank You All And Here Dismiss You All, And To The Love And Favor Of My Country Commit Myself, My Person, And The Cause.

For Some Must Watch, While Some Must Sleep So Runs The World Away

Why, Thou Deboshed Fish Thou...wilt Thou Tell A Monstrous Lie, Being But Half A Fish And Half A Monster?

Life Is As Tedious As Twice-told Tale, Vexing The Dull Ear Of A Drowsy Man.

The Clock Upbraids Me With The Waste Of Time.

Polonius: What Do You Read, My Lord? Hamlet: Words, Words, Words.

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

Too Much Of Water Hast Thou, Poor Ophelia, And Therefore I Forbid My Tears.

Hamlet And Ophelia

Aand In The End, Having My Freedom, Boast Of Nothing Else But That I Was A Journeyman To Grief?

I Will Instruct My Sorrows To Be Proud; For Grief Is Proud, And Makes His Owner Stoop.

Milk-livered Man, That Bear'st A Cheek For Blows, A Head For Wrongs; Who Hast Not In Thy Brows An Eye Discerning Thine Honor From Thy Suffering; [that Not Know'st Fools Do Those Villains Pity Who Are Punished Ere They Have Done Their Mischief. Where's Thy Drum? France Spreads His Banners In Our Noiseless Land, With Plumed Helm Thy State Begins To Threat, Whilst Thou, A Moral Fool, Sits Still And Cries 'alack, Why Does He So?']

Let Us, Like Merchants, Show Our Foulest Wares, And Think Perchance They'll Sell; If Not, The Lustre Of The Better Yet To Show Shall Show The Better.

When Holy And Devout Religious Men Are At Their Beads, 'tis Hard To Draw Them Thence; So Sweet Is Zealous Contemplation.

His Neigh Is Like The Bidding Of A Monarch, And His Countenance Enforces Homage. He Is Indeed A Horse.

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.

Love Surfeits Not, Lust Like A Glutton Dies; Love Is All Truth, Lust Full Of Forged Lies

And I Will Make It Felony To Drink Small Beer.

O Coward Conscience, How Dost Thou Afflict Me!

I Cannot But Remember Such Things Were That Were Most Precious To Me.

You Saw Her Fair, None Else Being By, Herself Pois'd With Herself In Either Eye; But In That Crystal Scales Let There Be Weigh'd Your Lady's Love Against Some Other Maid That I Will Show You Shining At This Feast, And She Shall Scant Show Well That Now Seems Best.

And All My Mother Came Into Mine Eyes And Gave Me Up To Tears.

I Am Not Merry, But I Do Beguile The Thing I Am By Seeming Otherwise.

A Pair Of Star-crossed Lovers.

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.

I Begin To Find An Idle And Fond Bondage In The Oppression Of Aged Tyranny, Who Sways, Not As It Hath Power, But As It Is Suffered.

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

Welcome Ever Smiles, And Farewell Goes Out Sighing.

This Rudeness Is A Sauce To His Good Wit, Which Gives Men Stomach To Digest His Words With Better Appetite.

The Lowest Ebb Is The Turn Of The Tide. Henry Wadsworth Longfellow We Are Such Stuff As Dreams Are Made Of.

The Clamorous Owl That Nightly Hoots And Wonders At Our Quaint Spirits.

Finish, Good Lady; The Bright Day Is Done, And We Are For The Dark.

I Wish My Horse Had The Speed Of Your Tongue.

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

Master, Go On, And I Will Follow Thee To The Last Gasp With Truth And Loyalty.

Some Say That Ever 'gainst The Season Comes Wherein Our Saviour's Birth Is Celebrated, The Bird Of Dawning Singeth All Night Long: And Then, They Say, No Spirit Can Walk Abroad; The Nights Are Wholesome; Then No Planets Strike, No Fairy Takes, Nor Wi

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

Some Falls The Means Are Happier To Rise.

A Golden Mind Stoops Not To Shows Of Dross.

O, Pardon Me, Thou Bleeding Piece Of Earth, / That I Am Meek And Gentle With These Butchers!

You Have Witchcraft In Your Lips

I Will Make Thee Think Thy Swan A Crow.

We Make Ourselves Fools To Disport Ourselves And Spend Our Flatteries To Drink Those Men Upon Whose Age We Void It Up Again With Poisonous Spite And Envy.

If She Be Not Honest, Chaste, And True, There's No Man Happy.

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

The Prize Of All Too Precious You.

Make The Upcoming Hour Overflow With Joy, And Let Pleasure Drown The Brim.

They That Have Voice Of Lions And Act Of Hares,--are They Not Monsters?

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

Foul Fiend Of France And Hag Of All Despite, Encompassed With Thy Lustful Paramours, Becomes It Thee To Taunt His Valiant Age And Twit With Cowardice A Man Half Dead?

Be Just, And Fear Not.

He Is Well Paid That Is Well Satisfied.

Be Not Too Tame Neither, But Let Your Own Discretion Be Your Tutor; Suit The Action To The Word, The Word To The Action.

If Thou Art Rich, Thou Art Poor; For, Like An Ass, Whose Back With Ingots Bows, Thou Bearest Thy Heavy Riches But A Journey, And Death Unloads Thee.

Two Women Placed Together Makes Cold Weather.

Be As Thou Wast Wont To Be. See As Thou Wast Wont To See.

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

The Time Is Out Of Joint.

Tis But A Base, Ignoble Mind That Mounts No Higher Than A Bird Can Soar.

But Indeed An Old Religious Uncle Of Mine Taught Me To Speak, Who Was In His Youth An Inland Man; One That Knew Courtship Too Well, For There He Fell In Love. I Have Heard Him Read Many Lectures Against It; And I Thank God I Am Not A Woman, To Be Touched With So Many Giddy Offenses As He Hath Generally Taxed Their Whole Sex Withal.

Wisdom And Goodness To The Vile Seem Vile; Filths Savour But Themselves.

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.

To Do A Great Right Do A Little Wrong.

An Honest Man, Sir, Is Able To Speak For Himself, When A Knave Is Not.

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

The Why Is Plain As Way To Parish Church: He That A Fool Doth Very Wisely Hit Doth Very Foolishly, Although He Smart, Not To Seem Senseless Of The Bob; If Not, The Wise Man's Folly Is Anatomiz'd Even By The Squand'ring Glances Of The Fool.

Against Love's Fire Fear`s Frost Hath Dissolution

At Christmas, I No More Desire A Rose.

Within The Hollow Crown That Rounds The Mortal Temples Of A King Keeps Death His Court.

For By His Face Straight Shall You Know His Heart.

A Heavy Heart Bears Not A Nimble Tongue.

The Love Of Wicked Men Converts To Fear; That Fear To Hate, And Hate Turns One Or Both To Worthy Danger And Deserved Death.

Melancholy Is The Nurse Of Frenzy.

So Full Of Shapes Is Fancy

O, Call Back Yesterday, Bid Time Return

Ay; Beauty's Princely Majesty Is Such, Confounds The Tongue And Makes The Senses Rough.

I Would That I Were Low Laid In My Grave. I Am Not Worth This Coil That's Made For Me.

The Tongues Of Dying Men Enforce Attention Like Deep Harmony.

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

Short Time Seems Long In Sorrow's Sharp Sustaining.

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

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

My Heart Is Turned To Stone; I Strike It, And It Hurts My Hand.

The Dullness Of The Fool Is The Whetstone Of The Wits.

My Story Starts At Sea... A Perilous Voyage To An Unknown Land... A Shipwreck... The Wild Waters Roar And Heave... The Brave Vessel Is Dashed All To Pieces, And All The Helpless Souls Within Her Drowned... All Save One... A Lady... Whose Soul Is Greater Than The Ocean... And Her Spirit Stronger Than The Sea's Embrace... Not For Her A Watery End, But A New Life Beginning On A Stranger Shore. It Will Be A Love Story... For She Will Be My Heroine For All Time. And Her Name Will Be... Viola.

I Love Thee, And It Is My Love That Speaks

There Is Nothing In The World So Much Like Prayer As Music Is. ~william Shakespeare

They Say, The Tongues Of Dying Men Enforce Attention, Like Deep Harmony; Where Words Are Scarce, They're Seldom Spent In Vain; For They Breathe Truth, That Breathe Their Words In Pain.

But Pearls Are Fair; And The Old Saying Is: Black Men Are Pearls In Beauteous Ladies' Eyes.

But Let The Frame Of Things Disjoint, Both The Worlds Suffer, Ere We Will Eat Our Meal In Fear, And Sleep In The Affliction Of These Terrible Dreams That Shake Us Nightly.

Here Feel We But The Penalty Of Adam, The Seasons' Difference, As The Icy Fang And Churlish Chiding Of The Winter's Wind, Which, When It Bites And Blows Upon My Body, Even Till I Shrink With Cold, I Smile.

O Fortune, Fortune! All Men Call Thee Fickle.

Let Us Not Burden Our Remembrances With A Heaviness That's Gone.

You Have Dancing Shoes With Nimble Soles. I Have A Soul Of Lead.

Say As You Think And Speak It From Your Souls.

Crowns In My Purse I Have, And Goods At Home, And So Am Come Abroad To See The World.

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.

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

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

The Words Of Mercury Are Harsh After The Songs Of Apollo.

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

Season Your Admiration For A While.

Make The Doors Upon A Woman's Wit, And It Will Out At The Casement; Shut That, And 'twill Out At The Key-hole; Stop That, 'twill Fly With The Smoke Out At The Chimney.

Macduff: What Three Things Does Drink Especially Provoke? Porter: Marry, Sir, Nose-painting, Sleep, And Urine.

A Smile Cures The Wounding Of A Frown.

Striving To Better, Oft We Mar What’s Well.

Lechery, Lechery; Still, Wars And Lechery: Nothing Else Holds Fashion.

... By Indirections Find Directions Out.

See How She Leans Her Cheek Upon Her Hand. O, That I Were A Glove Upon That Hand That I Might Touch That Cheek!

Thou Hast Most Traitorously Corrupted The Youth Of The Realm In Erecting A Grammar School.

Fore God, You Have Here A Goodly Dwelling And A Rich.

What's Done Is Done. The Joy Is In The Doing.

When A Father Gives To His Son, Both Laugh; When A Son Gives To His Father, Both Cry.

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.

Blessings Of Your Heart, You Brew Good Ale.

Enjoy The Honey-heavy Dew Of Slumber.

This Wimpled, Whining, Purblind, Wayward Boy, This Senior Junior, Giant Dwarf...cupid.

Who Finds The Heifer Dead And Bleeding Fresh And Sees Fast-by A Butcher With An Axe, But Will Suspect 'twas He That Made The Slaughter?

Nothing Teems But Hateful Docks, Rough Thistles, Kecksies, Burs, Losing Both Beauty And Utility.

He Hath Eaten Me Out Of House And Home.

And Flights Of Angels Sing Thee To Thy Rest!

Dirty Days Hath September April June And November From January Up To May The Rain It Raineth Every Day All The Rest Have Thirty-one Without A Blessed Gleam Of Sun And If Any Of Them Had Two-and-thirty They'd Be Just As Wet And Twice As Dirty." "april Hath Put A Spirit Of Youth In Everything.

The Most Peaceable Way For You, If You Do Take A Thief, Is, To Let Him Show Himself What He Is And Steal Out Of Your Company.

The Native Hue Of Resolution Is Sicklied O'er With The Pale Cast Of Thought; And Enterprises Of Great Pitch And Moment, With This Regard, Their Currents Turn Awry, And Lose The Name Of Action.

Hamlet And Ophelia

The Gray-eyed Morn Smiles On The Frowning Night, Checkering The Eastern Clouds With Streaks Of Light.

Out, Out, Brief Candle! Life's But A Walking Shadow.

Futility Of Life

Mean And Mighty, Rotting Together, Have One Dust.

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.

Have You Not Love Enough To Bear With Me, When That Rash Humor Which My Mother Gave Me Makes Me Forgetful.

Stars, Hide Your Fires; Let Not Light See My Black And Deep Desires.

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.

Thou Dost Conspire Against Thy Friend, Iago, If Thou But Think'st Him Wronged, And Mak'st His Ear A Stranger To Thy Thoughts.

Here Will Be An Old Abusing Of God's Patience And The King's English.

Sweet Are The Uses Of Adversity Which, Like The Toad, Ugly And Venomous, Wears Yet A Precious Jewel In His Head.

If There Be Devils, Would I Were A Devil, To Live And Burn In Everlasting Fire, So I Might Have Your Company In Hell, But To Torment You With My Bitter Tongue!

Well, Heaven Forgive Him! And Forgive Us All! Some Rise By Sin, And Some By Virtue Fall: Some Run From Brakes Of Ice, And Answer None: And Some Condemned For A Fault Alone.

For Trust Not Him That Hath Once Broken Faith

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

Could Beauty, My Lord, Have Better Commerce Than With Honesty?

Unless The Old Adage Must Be Verified, That Beggars Mounted, Run Their Horse To Death.

Hang Him, Swaggering Rascal!

But That The Dread Of Something After Death, The Undiscover'd Country From Whose Bourn No Traveller Returns, Puzzles The Will And Makes Us Rather Bear Those Ills We Have Than Fly To Others That We Know Not Of?

A Right Judgment Draws Us A Profit From All Things We See .

Give It An Understanding, But No Tongue.

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.

Let's Teach Ourselves That Honorable Stop, Not To Outsport Discretion.

When We Mean To Build, We First Survey The Plot, Then Draw The Model; And When We See The Figure Of The House, Then Must We Rate The Cost Of The Erection.

Can One Desire Too Much Of A Good Thing?

The Devil Hath Power To Assume A Pleasing Shape.

Love Reasons Without Reason.

The Soul Of This Man Is His Clothes.

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

Your Praises Will Become Your Wages.

Love Moderately; Long Love Doth So; Too Swift Arrives As Tardy As Too Slow.

Is It Possible He Should Know What He Is, And Be That He Is?

Words Without Thoughts Never To Heaven Go.

Hamlet And Ophelia

Care For Us! True, Indeed! They Ne'er Cared For Us Yet: Suffer Us To Famish, And Their Storehouses Crammed With Grain; Make Edicts For Usury, To Support Usurers; Repeal Daily Any Wholesome Act Established Against The Rich, And Provide More Piercing Statutes Daily To Chain Up And Restrain The Poor. If The Wars Eat Us Not Up, They Will; And There's All The Love They Bear Us.

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.

Pleasure And Action Make The Hours Seem Short.

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

We All Are Men, In Our Own Natures Frail, And Capable Of Our Flesh; Few Are Angels.

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

To Show Our Simple Skill, That Is The True Beginning Of Our End.

King Henry: But What A Point, My Lord, Your Falcon Made, And What A Pitch She Flew Above The Rest! To See How God In All His Creatures Works! Yea, Man And Birds Are Fain Of Climbing High. Suffolk: No Marvel, An It Like Your Majesty, My Lord Protectors Hawks Do Tower So Well; They Know Their Masters Loves To Be Aloft, And Bears His Thoughts Above His Falcon's Pitch. Gloucester: My Lord, 'tis But A Base Ignoble Mind That Mounts No Higher Than A Bird Can Soar.

For I Have Sworn Thee Fair, And Thought Thee Bright, Who Art As Black As Hell, As Dark As Night.

Be Bloody, Bold, And Resolute; Laugh To Scorn The Power Of Man.

In Truth, Fair Montague, I Am Too Fond.

Romeo And Juliet Love

O, But They Say, The Tongues Of Dying Men Enforce Attention, Like Deep Harmony: Where Words Are Scarce, They Are Seldom Spent In Vain: For They Breathe Truth, That Breathe Their Words In Pain. He, That No More Must Say, Is Listened More Than They Whom Youth And Ease Have Taught To Gloze; More Are Men's Ends Marked, Than Their Lives Before: The Setting Sun, And Music At The Close, As The Last Taste Of Sweets, Is Sweetest Last; Writ In Rememberance More Than Things Long Past

O Thou That Dost Inhabit In My Breast, Leave Not The Mansion So Long Tenantless; Lest, Growing Ruinous, The Building Fall And Leave No Memory Of What It Was!

Call Me What Instrument You Will, Though You Can Fret Me, You Cannot Play Upon Me.

Important Hamlet

Live How We Can, Yet Die We Must.

It Is War's Prize To Take All Vantages; And Ten To One Is No Impeach Of Valor.

Angels Are Bright Still, Though The Brightest Fell.

Important Macbeth

If I Lose My Honor, I Lose Myself: Better I Were Not Yours Than Yours So Branchless.

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