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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.

-William Shakespeare

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He Was Too Good

William Shakespeare

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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.

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Blessed Are The Peacemakers On Earth.

If She Lives Till Doomsday, She'll Burn A Week Longer Than The Whole World.

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

Do Not Cast Away An Honest Man For A Villain's Accusation.

By Medicine Life May Be Prolonged, Yet Death Will Seize The Doctor Too.

When We Are Born We Cry That We Are Come To This Great Stage Of Fools.

Men Should Be What They Seem.

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

Come Not Between The Dragon And His Wrath.

Sir, The Year Growing Ancient, Not Yet On Summer's Death Nor On The Birth Of Trembling Winter, The Fairest Flowers O' Th' Season Are Our Carnations And Streaked Gillyvors, Which Some Call Nature's Bastards.

Corruption Wins Not More Than Honesty. Still In Thy Right Hand Carry Gentle Peace, To Silence Envious Tongues.

When I Got Enough Confidence, The Stage Was Gone. When I Was Sure Of Losing, I Won. When I Needed People The Most, They Left Me. When I Learnt To Dry My Tears, I Found A Shoulder To Cry On. And When I Mastered The Art Of Hating, Somebody Started Loving Me.

Why Should Honor Outlive Honestly? Orthello

That Thou Art Blamed Shall Not Be Thy Defect, For Slander's Mark Was Ever Yet The Fair; The Ornament Of Beauty Is Suspect, A Crow That Flies In Heaven's Sweetest Air.

I Take Thee At Thy Word: Call Me But Love, And I'll Be New Baptized; Henceforth I Never Will Be Romeo.

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If I Profane With My Unworthiest Hand This Holy Shrine, The Gentle Fine Is This: My Lips, Two Blushing Pilgrims, Ready Stand To Smooth That Rough Touch With A Tender Kiss.

So Holy And So Perfect Is My Love, And I In Such A Poverty Of Grace, That I Shall Think It A Most Plenteous Crop To Glean The Broken Ears After The Man That The Main Harvest Reaps.

Some Are Born Great, Others Achieve Greatness.

Downy Sleep, Death's Counterfeit.

Ross You Must Have Patience, Madam. Lady Macduff He Had None: His Flight Was Madness: When Our Actions Do Not, Our Fears Do Make Us Traitors.

There's Such Divinity Doth Hedge A King That Treason Can But Peep To What It Would.

Kings And Queens

Make Use Of Time, Let Not Advantage Slip.

Let Me Tell You, Cassius, You Yourself Are Much Condemned To Have An Itching Palm.

Grace Me No Grace, Nor Uncle Me No Uncle.

Blind Is His Love, And Best Befits The Dark.

What A Terrible Era In Which Idiots Govern The Blind.

No .... Holy Father, Throw Away That Thought. Believe Not That The Dribbling Dart Of Love Can Pierce A Complete Bosom.

You Are Yoked With A Lamb, That Carries Anger As The Flint Bears Fire; Who, Much Enforced, Shows A Hasty Spank, And Straight Is Cold Again.

For A Noble Heart, The Most Precious Gift Becomes Poor, When The Giver Stops Loving.

I Do The Wrong, And First Begin To Brawl. The Secret Mischiefs That I Set Abroach I Lay Unto The Grievous Charge Of Others.

The Smallest Worm Will Turn Being Trodden On, And Doves Will Peck In Safeguard Of Their Brood.

And Do So, Love, Yet When They Have Devised What Strainèd Touches Rhetoric Can Lend, Thou, Truly Fair, Wert Truly Sympathized In True Plain Words By Thy True-telling Friend; And Their Gross Painting Might Be Better Used Where Cheeks Need Blood; In Thee It Is Abused.

The Past Is Prologue.

Sir, In My Heart There Was A Kind Of Fighting That Would Not Let Me Sleep.

Nature Does Require Her Time Of Preservation, Which Perforce, I Her Frail Son Amongst My Brethren Mortal, Must Give My Attendance To.

The Icy Precepts Of Respect.

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

Love Denied Blights The Soul We Owe To God.

Now All The Youth Of England Are On Fire, And Silken Dalliance In The Wardrobe Lies; Now Thrive The Armorers, And Honor's Thought Reigns Solely In The Breast Of Every Man.

To Fear The Foe, Since Fear Oppresseth Strength, Gives, In Your Weakness, Strength Unto Your Foe, And So Your Follies Fight Against Yourself. Fear, And Be Slain--so Worse Can Come To Fight; And Fight And Die Is Death Destroying Death, Where Fearing Dying Pays Death Servile Breath.

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.

Few Things Loves Better Than To Abhor Himself.

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

And The More Pity That Great Folk Should Have Count'nance In This World To Drown Or Hang Themselves More Than Their Even-christen.

Thy Head Is As Full Of Quarrels As An Egg Is Full Of Meat, And Yet Thy Head Hath Been Beaten As Addle As An Egg For Quarrelling.

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

Heat Not A Furnace For Your Foe So Hot That It Do Singe Yourself.

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

Comfort's In Heaven, And We Are On The Earth

Tis Not A Year Or Two Shows Us A Man: They Are All But Stomachs, And We All But Food; They Eat Us Hungerly, And When They Are Full They Belch Us.

I Will Not Choose What Many Men Desire, Because I Will Not Jump With Common Spirits And Rank Me With The Barbarous Multitudes.

To Have Seen Much And To Have Nothing Is To Have Rich Eyes And Poor Hands.

The Fewer Men, The Greater Share Of Honor.

Faint Heart Never Won Fair Maid.

I Heard A Bustling Rumor Like A Fray, And The Wind Blows It From The Capitol.

Thieves For Their Robbery Have Authority When Judges Steal Themselves.

The Devil Can Cite Scripture For His Purpose.

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

To Die, Is To Be Banish'd From Myself; And Silvia Is Myself: Banish'd From Her, Is Self From Self: A Deadly Banishment! What Light Is Light, If Silvia Be Not Seen? What Joy Is Joy, If Silvia Be Not By? Unless It Be To Think That She Is By, And Feed Upon The Shadow Of Perfection. Except I Be By Silvia In The Night, There Is No Music In The Nightingale; Unless I Look On Silvia In The Day, There Is No Day For Me To Look Upon; She Is My Essence, And I Leave To Be, If I Be Not By Her Fair Influence Foster'd, Illumin'd, Cherish'd, Kept Alive.

Every Offense Is Not A Hate At First.

O, Swear Not By The Moon, The Fickle Moon, The Inconstant Moon, That Monthly Changes In Her Circle Orb, Lest That Thy Love Prove Likewise Variable

Fair, Kind, And True, Have Often Lived Alone.

His Worst Fault Is, He's Given To Prayer; He Is Something Peevish That Way.

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

They Told Me I Was Everything. 'tis A Lie, I Am Not Ague-proof.

Men In Rage Strike Those That Wish Them Best.

Faster Than Spring-time Showers Comes Thought On Thought.

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

Thus Did I Keep My Person Fresh And New, My Presence, Like A Robe Pontifical, Ne'er Seen But Wondered At, And So My State, Seldom But Sumptuous, Showed Like A Feast.

When A Gentlemen Is Disposed To Swear, It Is Not For Any Standers-by To Curtail His Oaths.

Speak Comfortable Words.

Now Old Desire Doth In His Deathbed Lie, And Young Affection Gapes To Be His Heir; That Fair For Which Love Groan'd For And Would Die, With Tender Juliet Match'd, Is Now Not Fair.

Leave Us To Our Free Election.

The First Thing We Do, Let's Kill All The Lawyers.

Vice Repeated Is Like The Wandering Wind, Blows Dust In Others' Eyes To Spread Itself.

Thrust Your Head Into The Public Street, To Gaze On Christian Fools With Varnish'd Faces.

I Find My Zenith Doth Depend Upon A Most Auspicious Star, Whose Influence If Now I Court Not, But Omit, My Fortunes Will Ever After Droop.

Each Substance Of A Grief Has Twenty Shadows.

The Gates Of Monarchs Are Arched So High That Giants May Jet Through And Keep Their Impious Turbans On Without Good Morrow To The Sun.

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

Awake, Awake, English Nobility! Let Not Sloth Dim Your Horrors New-begot.

Thou Hast No Figures Nor No Fantasies Which Busy Care Draws In The Brains Of Men; Therefore Thou Sleep'st So Sound.

Can I Go Forward When My Heart Is Here? Turn Back, Dull Earth, And Find Thy Centre Out.

Beauty Too Rich For Use, For Earth Too Dear.

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Let Not Our Babbling Dreams Affright Our Souls; Conscience Is But A Work That Cowards Use, Devised At First To Keep The Strong In Awe: Our Strong Arms Be Our Conscience, Swords Our Law!

Welcome Ever Smiles, And Farewell Goes Out Sighing.

Forget, Forgive; Conclude, And Be Agreed.

I Love A Ballad But Even Too Well If It Be Doleful Matter Merrily Set Down, Or A Very Pleasant Thing Indeed And Sung Lamentably.

I Will Praise Any Man That Will Praise Me.

Like The Lily That Once Was Mistress Of The Field And Flourished, I'll Hang My Head And Perish.

How Ill White Hairs Become A Fool And Jester!

I Am Not In The Giving Vein Today.

You Lie, In Faith; For You Are Call'd Plain Kate, And Bonny Kate And Sometimes Kate The Curst; But Kate, The Prettiest Kate In Christendom Kate Of Kate Hall, My Super-dainty Kate, For Dainties Are All Kates, And Therefore, Kate, Take This Of Me, Kate Of My Consolation; Hearing Thy Mildness Praised In Every Town, Thy Virtues Spoke Of, And Thy Beauty Sounded, Yet Not So Deeply As To Thee Belongs, Myself Am Moved To Woo Thee For My Wife.

Who Alone Suffers Suffers Most I' Th' Mind, Leaving Free Things And Happy Shows Behind; But Then The Mind Much Sufferance Doth O'erskip When Grief Hath Mates, And Bearing Fellowship.

Set We Forward; Let A Roman And A British Ensign Wave Friendly Together. So Through Lud's Town March, And In The Temple Of The Great Jupiter Our Peace We'll Ratify, Seal It With Feasts. Set On There! Never Was A War Did Cease, Ere Bloody Hands Were Washed, With Such A Peace.

He That Will Have A Cake Out Of The Wheat Must Tarry The Grinding.

Fat Paunches Have Lean Pates, And Dainty Bits Make Rich The Ribs, But Backrout Quite The Wits.

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

Death Rock Me Asleep.

Ingratitude Is Monstrous.

Inspirational Christmas

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.

Tis A Happy Thing To Be The Father Unto Many Sons.

Why, Universal Plodding Poisons Up The Nimble Spirits In The Arteries, As Motion And Long-during Action Tires The Sinewy Vigor Of The Traveller.

I See A Woman May Be Made A Fool, If She Had Not A Spirit To Resist.

My Way Of Life Is Fall'n Into The Sear And Yellow Leaf.

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

I Fill Up A Place, Which May Be Better... When I Have Made It Empty.

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

Hot Lavender, Mints, Savory, Marjoram; The Marigold, That Goes To Bed Wi' The Sun, And With Him Rise Weeping.

Rich Honesty Dwells Like A Miser, Sir, In A Poor House; As Your Pearl In Your Foul Oyster.

From Camp To Camp, Through The Foul Womb Of Night, The Hum Of Either Army Stilly Sounds, That The Fixed Sentinels Almost Receive The Secret Whispers Of Each Other's Watch. Fire Answers Fire, And Through Their Play Flames Each Battle Sees The Other's Umbered Face. 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.

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

Assume A Virtue, If You Have It Not. That Monster, Custom, Who All Sense Doth Eat, Of Habits Devil, Is Angel Yet In This, That To The Use Of Actions Fair And Good He Likewise Gives A Frock Or Livery That Aptly Is Put On. Refrain Tonight, And That Shall Lend A Kind Of Easiness To The Next Abstinence; The Next More Easy; For Use Almost Can Change The Stamp Of Nature.

Fie, Thou Dishonest Satan! I Call Thee By The Most Modest Terms; For I Am One Of Those Gentle Ones That Will Use The Devil Himself With Courtesy: Sayest Thou That House Is Dark?

The Spirit Of A Youth That Means To Be Of Note, Begins Betimes.

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

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.

Being Of No Power To Make His Wishes Good: His Promises Fly So Beyond His State That What He Speaks Is All In Debt; He Owes For Every Word.

Un-thread The Rude Eye Of Rebellion, And Welcome Home Again Discarded Faith.

Two Households, Both Alike In Dignity In Fair Verona, Where We Lay Our Scene From Ancient Grudge Break To New Mutiny Where Civil Blood Makes Civil Hands Unclean. From Forth The Fatal Loins Of These Two Foes A Pair Of Star-cross'd Lovers Take Their Life Whose Misadventured Piteous Overthrows Do With Their Death Bury Their Parents' Strife.

A High Hope For A Low Heaven: God Grant Us Patience!

I Hold The World But As The World, Gratiano!

Unbidden Guests Are Often Welcomest When They Are Gone.

See The Minutes, How They Run, How Many Make The Hour Full Complete; How Many Hours Bring About The Day; How Many Days Will Finish Up The Year; How Many Years A Mortal Man May Live.

A Countenance More In Sorrow Than In Anger.

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.

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

He That Will Have A Cake Out Of The Wheat Must Tarry The Grinding. Have I Not Tarried? Ay, The Grinding; But You Must Tarry The Bolting. Have I Not Tarried? Ay, The Bolting; But You Must Tarry The Leavening. Still Have I Tarried. Ay, To The Leavening; But Here's Yet In The Word 'hereafter' The Kneading, The Making Of The Cake, The Heating Of The Oven, And The Baking; Nay, You Must Stay The Cooling Too, Or You May Chance To Burn Your Lips.

Time Does Not Have The Same Appeal For Every One

I See, Sir, You Are Liberal In Offers. You Taught Me First To Beg, And Now Methinks You Teach Me How A Beggar Should Be Answered.

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

Free From Gross Passion Or Of Mirth Or Anger

Hasty Marriage Seldom Proveth Well.

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

One May Smile, And Smile, And Be A Villain.

Hamlet And Ophelia

He Was A Man, Take Him For All In All, I Shall Not Look Upon His Like Again.

Love's Not Time's Fool, Though Rosy Lips And Cheeks Within His Bending Sickle's Compass Come.

O Comfort-killing Night, Image Of Hell, Dim Register And Notary Of Shame, Black Stage For Tragedies And Murders Fell, Vast Sin-concealing Chaos, Nurse Of Blame!

The Third Day Comes A Frost, A Killing Frost.

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

They Have Been Grand-jurymen Since Before Noah Was A Sailor

He Must Needs Go That The Devil Drives.

Be Not Thy Tongue Thy Own Shame's Orator.

How Oft The Sight Of Means To Do Ill Deeds Makes Ill Deeds Done!

He Was Not So Much Brain As Earwax

Grief Makes One Hour Ten.

Losing A Loved One

It Is To Be All Made Of Fantasy, All Made Of Passion And All Made Of Wishes, All Adoration, Duty, And Observance, All Humbleness, All Patience And Impatience, All Purity, All Trial, All Observance

Sweet Recreation Barred, What Doth Ensue But Moody And Dull Melancholy, Kinsman To Grim And Comfortless Despair.

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.

Now, Neighbor Confines, Purge You Of Your Scum! Have You A Ruffian That Will Swear, Drink, Dance, Revel The Night, Rob, Murder, And Commit The Oldest Sins The Newest Kind Of Ways?

Myself Will Straight Aboard, And To The State This Heavy Act With Heavy Heart Relate.

She Shall Scant Show Well That Now Shows Best.

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Our Praises Are Our Wages.

O King, Believe Not This Hard-hearted Man!

Be To Yourself As You Would To Your Friend.

God Defend Me From That Welsh Fairy, Lest He Transform Me To A Piece Of Cheese!

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.

Tam: What Begg’st Thou Then? Fond Woman, Let Me Go. Lav: ’tis Present Death I Beg; And One Thing More That Womanhood Denies My Tongue To Tell. O! Keep Me From Their Worse Than Killing Lust, And Tumble Me Into Some Loathsome Pit, Where Never Man’s Eye May Behold My Body: Do This, And Be A Charitable Murderer. Tam: So Should I Rob My Sweet Sons Of Their Fee: No, Let Them Satisfy Their Lust On Thee. Dem: Away! For Thou Hast Stay’d Us Here Too Long. Lav: No Grace! No Womanhood! Ah, Beastly Creature, The Blot And Enemy To Our General Name. Confusion Fall—

Beggar That I Am, I Am Even Poor In Thanks

Look What Thy Soul Holds Dear, Imagine It To Lie That Way Thou Goest, Not Whence Thou Com'st. Suppose The Singing Birds Musicians, The Grass Whereon Thou Tread'st The Presence Strewed, The Flowers Fair Ladies, And Thy Steps No More Than A Delight Measure Or A Dance; For Gnarling Sorrow Hath Less Power To Bite The Man That Mocks At It And Sets It Light.

What Can Be Happier Than For A Man, Conscious Of Virtuous Acts, And Content With Liberty, To Despise All Human Affairs?

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

They Were Devils Incarnate.

How Can Tyrants Safely Govern Home, Unless Abroad They Purchase Great Alliance.

Bloody Instructions, Which, Being Taught, Return To Plague The Inventor.

Important Macbeth

Though This Be Madness, Yet There Is Method In't.

Yet Nor The Lays Of Birds Nor The Sweet Smell Of Different Flowers In Odour And In Hue Could Make Me Any Summer's Story Tell, Or From Their Proud Lap Pluck Them Where They Grew; Nor Did I Wonder At The Lily's White, Nor Praise The Deep Vermilion In The Rose; They Were But Sweet, But Figures Of Delight, Drawn After You, You Pattern Of All Those.

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.

The Happiest Youth, Viewing His Progress Through, What Perils Past, What Crosses To Ensue, Would Shut The Book, And Sit Him Down And Die.

He Wears The Rose Of Youth Upon Him.

This Blessed Plot, This Earth, This Realm, This England.

Precious Stones

Paradise On Earth

Exit, Pursued By A Bear.

All Thy Vexations Were But My Trials Of Thy Love, And Thou Hast Strangely Stood The Test; Here, Afore Heaven, I Ratify This My Rich Gift.

I Will Kill Thee A Hundred And Fifty Ways.

All Love's Pleasure Shall Not Match Its Woe.

I Am Not Mad; I Would To Heaven I Were! For Then, 'tis Like I Should Forget Myself; O, If I Could, What Grief Should I Forget!

To You Your Father Should Be As A God; One That Composed Your Beauties, Yea, And One To Whom You Are But As A Form In Wax, By Him Imprinted, And Within His Power To Leave The Figure Or Disfigure It.

Ideas Are The Very Coinage Of Your Brain.

Determine On Some Course More Than A Wild Exposure To Each Chance.

Most Dear Actors, Eat No Onions Nor Garlic, For We Are To Utter Sweet Breath.

Suffer Love; A Good Epithet! I Do Suffer Love, Indeed, For I Love Thee Against My Will.

I'll Never Be Such A Gosling To Obey Instinct, But Stand As Is A Man Were Author Of Himself And Knew No Other Kin.

That England, That Was Wont To Conquer Others, Hath Made A Shameful Conquest Of Itself.

Come The Three Corners Of The World In Arms, And We Shall Shock Them.

O Fortune, Fortune! All Men Call Thee Fickle.

What Must Be Shall Be.

These Violent Delights Have Violent Ends And In Their Triumph Die, Like Fire And Powder, Which As They Kiss Consume. The Sweetest Honey Is Loathsome In His Own Deliciousness And In The Taste Confounds The Appetite. Therefore Love Moderately; Long Love Doth So; Too Swift Arrives As Tardy As Too Slow.

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.

As Good Luck Would Have It.

Men From Children Nothing Differ.

I Desire You In Friendship, And I Will One Way Or Other Make You Amends.

I Prithee Gentle Friend, Let Thy Fair Wisdom, Not Thy Passions, Sway In This Uncivil And Unjust Extent Against Thy Peace.

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

Lord, What Fools These Mortals Be!

Come, Lady, Die To Live.

My Endeavors Have Ever Come Too Short Of My Desires. Yet Filed With My Abilities.

Why, Friends, You Go To Do You Know Not What: Wherein Hath Caesar Thus Deserved Your Loves? Alas, You Know Not: I Must Tell You Then: You Have Forgot The Will I Told You Of. . . . . Here Is The Will, And Under Caesar's Seal. To Every Roman Citizen He Gives, To Every Several Man, Seventy-five Drachmas. . . . . Moreover, He Hath Left You All His Walks, His Private Arbours And New-planted Orchards, On This Side Tiber; He Hath Left Them You, And To Your Heirs For Ever, Common Pleasures, To Walk Abroad, And Recreate Yourselves. Here Was A Caesar! When Comes Such Another?

Farewell! A Long Farewell To All My Greatness!

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

Come, Go With Us, Speak Fair; You May Salve So, Not What Is Dangerous Present, But The Los Of What Is Past.

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