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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.

-William Shakespeare

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I Know Them, Yea,

William Shakespeare

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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.

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Be Like You Thought Our Love Would Last Too Long, If It Were Chain'd Together

He Is Deformed, Crooked, Old And Sere, Ill-faced, Worse Bodied, Shapeless Everywhere; Vicious, Ungentle, Foolish, Blunt, Unkind; Stigmatical In Making, Worse In Mind.

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. . . .

Oh, I Have Passed A Miserable Night, So Full Of Ugly Sights, Of Ghastly Dreams!

Sound Trumpets! Let Our Bloody Colours Wave! And Either Victory, Or Else A Grave.

Avaunt, You Cullions!

Let Me Confess That We Two Must Be Twain, Although Our Undivided Loves Are One.

No Matter Where; Of Comfort No Man Speak: Let's Talk Of Graves, Of Worms, And Epitaphs; Make Dust Our Paper And With Rainy Eyes Write Sorrow On The Bosom Of The Earth

Beware Of Entrance To A Quarrel.

You Kiss By Th' Book.

In Thee Thy Mother Dies, Our Household's Name, My Death's Revenge, Thy Youth, And England's Fame.

Art Thou Not, Fatal Vision, Sensible To Feelings As To Sight?

Why Should We Rise Because 'tis Light? Did We Lie Down Because T'was Night?

I Do Profess To Be No Less Than I Seem; To Serve Him Truly That Will Put Me In Trust: To Love Him That Is Honest; To Converse With Him That Is Wise, And Says Little; To Fear Judgment; To Fight When I Cannot Choose; And To Eat No Fish.

I Rather Would Entreat Thy Company; To See The Wonders Of The World Abroad, Than, Living Dully Sluggardized At Home, Wear Out Thy Youth With Shapeless Idleness.

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

Wisdom And Fortune Combating Together, If That The Former Dare But What It Can, No Chance May Shake It.

What's Gone, And What's Past Help, Should Be Past Grief.

Time Is The King Of Men.

'tis Brief, My Lord...as Woman's Love.

And Crispin Crispian Shall Ne'er Go By, 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

He Makes A July's Day Short As December.

For Many Men That Stumble At The Threshold Are Well Foretold That Danger Lurks Within.

The Insolence Of Office.

A Fusty Nut With No Kernel.

How Strange Or Odd Some'er I Bear Myself, As I Perchance Hereafter Shall Think Meet To Put An Antic Disposition On.

Good Morning To You, Fair And Gracious Daughter.

Good Wine Needs No Bush.

I See That The Fashion Wears Out More Apparel Than The Man.

O, Then I See Queen Mab Hath Been With You. . . . She Is The Fairies’ Midwife, And She Comes In Shape No Bigger Than An Agate Stone On The Forefinger Of An Alderman, Drawn With A Team Of Little Atomi Athwart Men’s Noses As They Lie Asleep.

So Curses All Eve's Daughters Of What Complexion Soever.

All Dark And Comfortless.

Women's Weapons, Water-drops.

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

When I Have Seen By Time's Fell Hand Defaced The Rich Proud Cost Of Outworn Buried Age; When Sometime Lofty Towers I See Down-razed And Brass Eternal Slave To Mortal Rage; When I Have Seen The Hungry Ocean Gain Advantage On The Kingdom Of The Shore, And The Firm Soil Win Of The Watery Main, Increasing Store With Loss And Loss With Store; When I Have Seen Such Interchange Of State, Or State Itself Confounded To Decay; Ruin Hath Taught Me Thus To Ruminate, That Time Will Come And Take My Love Away. This Thought Is As A Death Which Cannot Choose But Weep To Have That Which It Fears To Lose.

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.

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.

There Is Flattery In Friendship.

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.

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

A Whoreson Jackanapes Must Take Me Up For Swearing; As If I Borrowed Mine Oaths Of Him And Might Not Spend Them At My Pleasure. When A Gentleman Is Disposed To Swear, It Is Not For Any Standers-by To Curtail His Oaths, Ha?

Hopeless And Helpless Doth Egeon Wend, But To Procrastinate His Liveless End.

I'll Be At Charges For A Looking-glass And Entertain A Score Or Two Of Tailors To Study Fashions To Adorn My Body: Since I Am Crept In Favor With Myself, I Will Maintain It With Some Little Cost.

Heaven Give You Many, Many Merry Days.

The Soul Of This Man Is His Clothes.

Lives Like A Drunken Sailor On A Mast, Ready With Every Nod To Tumble Down Into The Fatal Bowels Of The Deep.

The Sweat Of Industry Would Dry And Die, But For The End It Works To.

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

To Gild Refined Gold, To Paint The Lily... Is Wasteful And Ridiculous Excess

Delay Leads Impotent And Snail-paced Beggary.

Procrastination

For Death Remembered Should Be Like A Mirror, Who Tells Us Life’s But Breath, To Trust It Error.

To Say The Truth, So Judas Kissed His Master And Cried, 'all Hail!' When As He Meant All Harm.

Life... Is A Paradise To What We Know Of Death.

Time Is A Very Bankrupt And Owes More Than He's Worth To Season. Nay, He's A Thief Too: Have You Not Heard Men Say, That Time Comes Stealing On By Night And Day?

If It Be Honor In Your Wars To Seem The Same You Are Not,--which, For Your Best Ends, You Adopt Your Policy--how Is It Less Or Worse, That It Shall Hold Companionship In Peace With Honour, As In War: Since That To Both It Stands In Like Request?

You, And Your Lady, Take From My Heart All Thankfulness!

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

Ignorance Is The Curse Of God; Knowledge Is The Wing Wherewith We Fly To Heaven.

Now Is The Winter Of Our Discontent.

Merchant Of Venice

It Is The Very Error Of The Moon; She Comes More Nearer Earth Than She Was Wont, And Makes Men Mad.

Look, What Envious Streaks Do Lace The Severing Clouds In Yonder East! Night's Candles Are Burnt Out, And Jocund Day Stands Tip-toe On The Misty Mountain-tops.

Thou Ever Young, Fresh, Lov'd, And Delicate Wooer, Whose Blush Doth Thaw The Consecrated Snow

Life's Uncertain Voyage.

What Showers Arise, Blown With The Windy Tempest Of My Heart

Alas, I Am A Woman Friendless, Hopeless!

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

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

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.

Rumor Is A Pipe Blown By Surmises, Jealousies, Conjectures.

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

What Wouldst Thou Do, Old Man? Think'st Thou That Duty Shall Have Dread To Speak When Power To Flattery Bows?

O Thou Invisible Spirit Of Wine, If Thou Has No Name To Be Known By, Let Us Call Thee Devil....o God, That Men Should Put An Enemy In Their Mouths To Steal Away Their Brains! That We Should, With Joy, Pleasance Revel And Applause, Transform Ourselves Into Beasts!

My Love Admits No Qualifying Dross

What Is A Man, If His Chief Good And Market Of His Time Be But To Sleep And Feed? A Beast, No More.

O Horror! Horror! Horror! Tongue Nor Heart Cannot Conceive Nor Name Thee!

I Have Sounded The Very Base-string Of Humility.

Marriage Is A Matter Of More Worth Than To Be Dealt In By Attorneyship.

This Fellow Pecks Up Wit, As Pigeons Peas; And Utters It Again When God Doth Please: He Is Wit's Pedler; And Retails His Wares.

O Mistress Mine, Where Are You Roaming? O, Stay And Hear; Your True Love's Coming, That Can Sing Both High And Low: Trip No Further, Pretty Sweeting; Journeys End In Lovers Meeting, Every Wise Man's Son Doth Know. What Is Love? 'tis Not Hereafter; Present Mirth Hath Present Laughter; What's To Come Is Still Unsure: In Delay There Lies Not Plenty; Then, Come Kiss Me, Sweet And Twenty, Youth's A Stuff Will Not Endure.

One Pain Is Lessened By Another's Anguish.

I Have No Way And Therefore Want No Eyes I Stumbled When I Saw. Full Oft 'tis Seen Our Means Secure Us, And Our Mere Defects Prove Our Commodities.

Tis In Ourselves That We Are Thus Or Thus. Our Bodies Are Our Gardens, To The Which Our Wills Are Gardeners: So That If We Will Plant Nettles, Or Sow Lettuce, Set Hyssop And Weed Up Tine, Supply It With One Gender Of Herbs, Or Distract It With Many, Either To Have It Sterile With Idleness, Or Manured With Industry, Why, The Power And Corrigible Authority Of This Lies In Our Wills.

On Pain Of Death, No Person Be So Bold.

I Dare Do All That May Become A Man; Who Dares Do More, Is None

He Is The Half Part Of A Blessed Man, Left To Be Finished By Such As She; And She A Fair Divided Excellence, Whose Fullness Of Perfection Lies In Him.

Behold The Threaden Sails, Borne With The Invisible And Creeping Wind, Draw The Huge Bottoms Through The Furrow'd Sea, Breasting The Lofty Surge

Don't Judge A Man's Conscience By Looking At His Face Cause He May Have A Bad Heart.

There's Little Of The Melancholy Element In Her, My Lord: She Is Never Sad But When She Sleeps; And Not Ever Sad Then; For I Have Heard My Daughter Say, She Hath Often Dreamt Of Unhappiness, And Waked Herself With Laughing.

To Mingle Friendship Far Is Mingling Bloods.

Friends Now Fast Sworn, Whose Double Bosoms Seems To Wear One Heart, Whose Hours, Whose Bed, Whose Meal And Exercise Are Still Together, Who Twin, As 'twere, In Love, Unseparable, Shall Within This Hour, On A Dissension Of A Doit, Break Out To Bitterest Enmity; So Fellest Foes, Whose Passions And Whose Plots Have Broke Their Sleep To Take The One The Other, By Some Chance, Some Trick Not Worth An Egg, Shall Grow Dear Friends And Interjoin Their Issues.

...lest Too Light Winning Make The Prize Light.

Say She Rail; Why, I'll Tell Her Plain She Sings As Sweetly As A Nightingale. Say That She Frown; I'll Say She Looks As Clear As Morning Roses Newly Wash'd With Dew. Say She Be Mute And Will Not Speak A Word; Then I'll Commend Her Volubility, And Say She Uttereth Piercing Eloquence.

Life Every Man Holds Dear; But The Dear Man Holds Honor Far More Precious Dear Than Life.

Ay, When Fowls Have No Feathers And Fish Have No Fin.

Give Them Great Meals Of Beef And Iron And Steel, They Will Eat Like Wolves And Fight Like Devils.

Then Know, That I Have Little Wealth To Lose. A Man I Am, Crossed With Adversity; My Riches Are These Poor Habiliments, Of Which If You Should Here Disfurnish Me, You Take The Sum And Substance That I Have.

Thoughts Are But Dreams Till Their Effects Are Tried.

I'll Drown More Sailors Than The Mermaid Shall; I'll Slay More Gazers Than The Basalisks; I'll Play The Orator As Well As Nestor, Decieve More Slily That Ulysses Could, And Like A Sinon, Take Another Troy. I Can Add Colors To The Chameleon, Change Shapes With Proteus For Advantages And Set The Murderous Machiavel To School. Can I Do This, And Cannot Get A Crown? Tut! Were It Further Off, I'll Pluck It Down.

Simply The Thing That I Am Shall Make Me Live.

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

Nature Teaches Beasts To Know Their Friends.

My Crown Is In My Heart, Not On My Head.

Nay, We Must Think Men Are Not Gods, Nor Of Them Look For Such Observancy As Fits The Bridal.

He That Commends Me To Mine Own Content Commends Me To The Thing I Cannot Get.

Shall I Never See A Bachelor Of Three Score Again?

Small Things Make Base Men Proud.

I Have Of Late--but Wherefore I Know Not--lost All My Mirth, Forgone All Custom Of Exercise.

Graze On My Lips; And If Those Hills Be Dry, Stray Lower, Where The Pleasant Fountains Lie.

But Whate'er You Are That In This Desert Inaccessible, Under The Shade Of Melancholy Boughs, Lose And Neglect The Creeping Hours Of Time; If You Have Ever Looked On Better Days, If Ever Been Where Bells Knoll'd To Church, If Ever Sat At Any Good Man's Feast, If Ever From Your Eyelids Wiped A Tear, And Know What 'tis To Pity And Be Pitied, Let Gentleness My Strong Enforcement Be. . . .

Scratching Could Not Make It Worse, An't Were Such A Face As Yours Were.

What I Have Done Is Yours; What I Have To Do Is Yours; Being Part In All I Have, Devoted Yours.

My Rage Is Gone, And I Am Struck With Sorrow. Take Him Up. Help, Three O' Th' Chiefest Soldiers; I'll Be One. Beat Thou The Drum, That It Speaks Mournfully, Trail Your Steel Spikes. Though In This City He Hath Widowed And Unchilded Many A One, Which To This Hour Bewail The Injury, Yet He Shall Have A Noble Memory. Assist.

O, Here Will I Set Up My Everlasting Rest And Shake The Yoke Of Inauspicious Stars From The World-wearied Flesh

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

Beggar That I Am, I Am Even Poor In Thanks

Let The Galled Jade Wince; Our Withers Are Unwrung.

Good Hay, Sweet Hay, Hath No Fellow.

Wait For The Season When To Cast Good Counsels Upon Subsiding Passion.

In Winter's Tedious Nights Sit By The Fire With Good Old Folks, And Let Them Tell Thee Tales Of Woeful Ages, Long Ago Betid

A Knot You Are Of Damned Bloodsuckers.

There's Rosemary And Rue. These Keep Seeming And Savor All The Winter Long. Grace And Remembrance Be To You.

There's Small Choice In Rotten Apples.

When We Our Betters See Bearing Our Woes, We Scarcely Think Our Miseries Our Foes.

Men's Faults Do Seldom To Themselves Appear.

O, How Full Of Briers Is This Working-day World!

Pray, Love, Remember: And There Is Pansies, That's For Thoughts.

Hamlet And Ophelia

Base Is The Slave That Pays.

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

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

England Is Safe, If True Within Itself.

But Most It Is Presumption In Us When The Help Of Heaven We Count The Act Of Men.

We Are Ready To Try Our Fortunes To The Last Man.

Thou Art A Slave, Whom Fortune's Tender Arm With Favour Never Clasp'd; But Bred A Dog.

All Things That We Ordained Festival Turn From Their Office To Black Funeral-- Our Instruments To Melancholy Bells, Our Wedding Cheer To A Sad Burial Feast; Our Solemn Hymns To Sullen Dirges Change; Our Bridal Flowers Serve For A Buried Corse; And All Things Change Them To The Contrary.

I Know A Bank Where The Wild Thyme Blows, Where Oxlips And The Nodding Violet Grows, Quite Over-canopied With Luscious Woodbine, With Sweet Musk-roses And With Eglantine.

The Thorny Point Of Bare Distress Hath Ta'en From Me The Show Of Smooth Civility; Yet Am I Inland Bred And Know Some Nurture.

But When The Fox Hath Once Got In His Nose, He'll Soon Find Means To Make The Body Follow.

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

Hamlet And Ophelia

Hamlet: Lady, Shall I Lie In Your Lap? Ophelia: No, My Lord. Hamlet: Did You Think I Meant Country Matters? Ophelia: I Think Nothing, My Lord. Hamlet: That's A Fair Thought To Lie Between Maids' Legs. Ophelia: What Is, My Lord? Hamlet: Nothing.

For Youth No Less Becomes The Light And Careless Livery That It Wears, Than Settled Age His Sables, And His Weeds Importing Health And Graveness.

I Have Heard Of Your Paintings Too, Well Enough; God Has Given You One Face, And You Make Yourselves Another: You Jig, You Amble, And You Lisp, And Nick-name God's Creatures, And Make Your Wantonness Your Ignorance. Go To, I'll No More On't; It Hath Made Me Mad.

I Dote On His Very Absence.

A Smile Cures The Wounding Of A Frown.

The Liquid Drops Of Tears That You Have Shed Shall Come Again, Transform'd To Orient Pearl, Advantaging Their Loan With Interest Of Ten Times Double Gain Of Happiness.

The Patient Must Minister To Himself

Condemn The Fault And Not The Actor Of It?

Measure For Measure

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

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

Important Hamlet

When You Depart From Me Sorrow Abides And Happiness Takes His Leave.

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

Look, How This Ring Encompasseth Thy Finger, Even So Thy Breast Encloseth My Poor Heart; Wear Both Of Them, For Both Of Them Are Thine.

Go Wisely And Slowly. Those Who Rush Stumble And Fall.

I Am Thy Father's Spirit; Doom'd For A Certain Term To Walk The Night And, For The Day, Confin'd To Fast In Fires, Till The Foul Crimes, Done In My Days Of Nature, Are Burnt And Purg'd Away.

There Are No Tricks In Plain And Simple Faith.

I Will Keep Where There Is Wit Stirring, And Leave The Faction Of Fools.

Lords, I Protest My Soul Is Full Of Woe That Blood Should Sprinkle Me To Make Me Grow. Come, Mourn With Me For What I Do Lament, And Put Sullen Black Incontinent. I'll Make A Voyage To The Holy Land To Wash This Blood Off From My Guilty Hand. March Sadly After. Grace My Mournings Here In Weeping After This Untimely Bier.

Are There No Stones In Heaven But What Serves For Thunder?

We, Ignorant Of Ourselves, Beg Often Our Own Harms, Which The Wise Powers Deny Us For Our Good; So Find We Profit By Losing Of Our Prayers.

Contention, Like A Horse, Full Of High Feeding, Madly Hath Broke Loose, And Bears Down All Before Him.

The Wheel Is Come Full Circle.

Hang Those That Talk Of Fear.

O God, O God, How Weary, Stale, Flat, And Unprofitable Seem To Me All The Uses Of This World!

Here's That Which Is Too Weak To Be A Sinner, Honest Water, Which Ne'er Left Man I' The Mire.

They May Seize On The White Wonder Of Dear Juliet's Hand And Steal Immortal Blessing From Her Lips, Who, Even In Pure And Vestal Modesty, Still Blush, As Thinking Their Own Kisses Sin.

If It Be You That Stirs These Daughters' Hearts Against Their Father, Fool Me Not So Much To Bear It Tamely; Touch Me With Noble Anger, And Let Not Women's Weapons, Water Drops, Stain My Man's Cheeks.

Our Doubts Are Traitors And Make Us Lose The Good We Oft Might Win By Fearing To Attempt.

I Will Do Anything, Nerissa, Ere I'll Be Married To A Sponge.

Most Friendship Is Faining, Most Loving Mere Folly: Then, Heigh-ho, The Holly. This Life Is Most Jolly.

What Seest Thou Else In The Dark Backward And Abysm Of Time?

I Have Thought Some Of Nature's Journeymen Had Made Men And Not Made Them Well, They Imitated Humanity So Abominably.

Anger Is Like A Full Hot Horse, Who Being Allowed His Way, Self-mettle Tires Him.

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

The Sight Of Lovers Feedeth Those In Love.

The Gods Are Just, And Of Our Pleasant Vices Make Instruments To Plague Us.

Past All Shame, So Past All Truth.

To Whom God Will, There Be The Victory.

But, Indeed, Words Are Very Rascals, Since Bonds [vows] Disgraced Them." Viola: "thy Reason, Man?" Feste: "troth [truthfully], Sir, I Can Yield You None Without Words, And Words Are Grown So False, I Am Loathe To Prove Reason With Them.

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

Come, Lady, Die To Live.

Tis A Blushing Shame-faced Spirit That Mutinies In A Man's Bosom. It Fills A Man Full Of Obstacles. It Made Me Once Restore A Purse Of Gold That (by Chance) I Found. It Beggars Any Man That Keeps It.

Go Hang Yourself, You Naughty Mocking Uncle!

I'll Follow Thee And Make A Heaven Of Hell, To Die Upon The Hand I Love So Well

Give Me A Bowl Of Wine, In This I Bury All Unkindness.

Nothing Comes From Doing Nothing.

And Nature Must Obey Necessity.

Love Is A Smoke Raised With The Fume Of Sighs; Being Purged, A Fire Sparkling In Lovers' Eyes; Being Vexed, A Sea Nourished With Loving Tears. What Is It Else? A Madness Most Discreet, A Choking Gall, And A Preserving Sweet. *here’s What Love Is: A Smoke Made Out Of Lovers' Sighs. When The Smoke Clears, Love Is A Fire Burning In Your Lover’s Eyes. If You Frustrate Love, You Get An Ocean Made Out Of Lovers' Tears. What Else Is Love? It’s A Wise Form Of Madness. It’s A Sweet Lozenge That You Choke On.*

My Business Was Great, And In Such A Case As Mine A Man May Strain Courtesy.

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

Love Is A Wonderful, Terrible Thing

To Me, Fair Friend, You Never Can Be Old, For As You Were When First Your Eye I Eyed, Such Seems Your Beauty Still. Three Winters Cold Have From The Forests Shook Three Summers' Pride, Three Beauteous Springs To Yellow Autumn Turn'd In Process Of The Seasons Have I Seen, Three April Perfumes In Three Hot Junes Burn'd, Since First I Saw You Fresh, Which Yet Are Green.

Dissembling Harlot, Thou Art False In All!

Hear Me Profess Sincerely: Had I A Dozen Sons, Each In My Love Alike, And None Less Dear Than Thine And My Good Marcius, I Had Rather Have Eleven Die Nobly For Their Country Than One Voluptuously Surfeit Out Of Action.

Lord, I Could Not Endure A Husband With A Beard On His Face! I Had Rather Lie In The Woolen.

The Curse Of Marriage That We Can Call These Delicate Creatures Ours And Not Their Appetites!

The Path Is Smooth That Leadeth On To Danger.

A Very Little Little Let Us Do And All Is Done.

Crabbed Age And Youth Cannot Live Together; Youth Is Full Of Pleasure, Age Is Full Of Care; Youth Like Summer Morn, Age Like Winter Weather; Youth Like Summer Brave, Age Like Winter Bare. Youth Is Full Sport, Age's Breath Is Short; Youth Is Nimble, Age Is Lame; Youth Is Hot And Bold, Age Is Weak And Cold; Youth Is Wild, Age Is Tame. Age, I Do Abhor Thee; Youth, I Do Adore Thee.

He Wears The Rose Of Youth Upon Him.

Thou Art An Elm, My Husband, I A Vine, Whose Weakness, Married To Thy Stronger State, Makes Me With Thy Strength To Communicate.

To Bed, To Bed; Sleep Kill Those Pretty Eyes, And Give As Soft Attachment To Thy Senses, As Infants Empty Of All Thought.

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