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If It Be Aught Toward The General Good, Set Honor In One Eye And Death I' Th' Other, And I Will Look On Both Indifferently; For Let The Gods So Speed Me As I Love The Name Of Honor More Than I Fear Death.

-William Shakespeare

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If It Be Aught

William Shakespeare

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If It Be Aught Toward The General Good, Set Honor In One Eye And Death I' Th' Other, And I Will Look On Both Indifferently; For Let The Gods So Speed Me As I Love The Name Of Honor More Than I Fear Death.

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

Who Are The Violets Now That Strew The Lap Of The New-come Spring?

Instead Of Weeping When A Tragedy Occurs In A Songbird's Life, It Sings Away Its Grief. I Believe We Could Well Follow The Pattern Of Our Feathered Friends.

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

Gentle And Low, An Excellent Thing In Woman.

Base Men Being In Love Have Then A Nobility In Their Natures More Than Is Native To Them.

Their Manners Are More Gentle, Kind, Than Of Our Human Generation You Shall Find.

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

Loathsome Canker Lives In Sweetest Bud.

You Told A Lie, An Odious Damned Lie; Upon My Soul, A Lie, A Wicked Lie.

The Third Day Comes A Frost, A Killing Frost.

Beware Of Entrance To A Quarrel; But Being In, Bear't That The Opposed May Beware Of Thee. Give Every Man Thy Ear, But Few Thy Voice; Take Each Man's Censure, But Reserve Thy Judgment. Costly Thy Habit As Thy Purse Can Buy, But Not Express'd In Fancy; Rich, Not Gaudy; For The Apparel Oft Proclaims The Man.

Love Will Not Be Spurred To What It Loathes

That's A Valiant Flea That Dares Eat His Breakfast On The Lip Of A Lion.

But Wherefore Could Not I Pronounce 'amen'? I Had Most Need Of Blessing, And 'amen' Stuck In My Throat.

Then With The Losers Let It Sympathize, For Nothing Can Seem Foul To Those That Win.

True, I Talk Of Dreams, Which Are The Children Of An Idle Brain, Begot Of Nothing But Vain Fantasy, Which Is As Thin Of Substance As The Air, And More Inconstant Than The Wind, Who Woos Even Now The Frozen Bosom Of The North, And, Being Anger'd, Puffs Away From Thence, Turning His Side To The Dew-dropping South.

For In That Sleep Of Death What Dreams May Come.

The Setting Sun, And The Music At The Close, As The Last Taste Of Sweets, Is Sweetest Last, Writ In Rememberance More Than Long Things Past.

Equality Of Two Domestic Powers Breeds Scrupulous Faction.

They Love Least That Let Men Know Their Loves.

Mine Honor Is My Life, Both Grow In One. Take Honor From Me, And My Life Is Done. Then, Dear My Liege, Mine Honor Let Me Try; In That I Live, And For That I Will Die.

Civil Dissension Is A Viperous Worm That Gnaws The Bowels Of The Commonwealth.

Gold--what Can It Not Do, And Undo?

A Good Man's Fortune May Grow Out At Heels.

That Is Not The Best Sermon Which Makes The Hearers Go Away Talking To One Another And Praising The Speaker, But Which Makes Them Go Away Thoughtful And Serious, And Hastening To Be Alone.

Retire Me To My Milan, Where Every Third Thought Shall Be My Grave.

But Fish Not With This Melancholy Bait For This Fool Gudgeon, This Opinion.

I Had Rather Live With Cheese And Garlic In A Windmill.

A Woman That Is Like A German Clock, Still A-repairing, Ever Out Of Frame, And Never Going Aright, Being A Watch, But Being Watched That It May Still Go Right!

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

Is It Possible That Love Should Of A Sudden Take Such A Hold?

Taming Of The Shrew

They Are But Beggars That Can Count Their Worth.

The Art Of Our Necessities Is Strange That Can Make Vile Things Precious.

It Is Not Vain Glory For A Man And His Glass To Confer In His Own Chamber.

There Is Special Providence In The Fall Of A Sparrow.

Hamlet And Ophelia

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

On A Day - Alack The Day! - Love, Whose Month Is Ever May, Spied A Blossom Passing Fair Playing In The Wanton Air

O Call Not Me To Justify The Wrong, That Thy Unkindness Lays Upon My Heart, Wound Me Not With Thine Eye But With Thy Tongue, Use Power With Power, And Slay Me Not By Art.

I Love Thee So, That, Maugre All Thy Pride, Nor Wit Nor Reason Can My Passion Hide. Do Not Extort Thy Reasons From This Clause, For That I Woo, Thou Therefore Hast No Cause But Rather Reason Thus With Reason Fetter, Love Sought Is Good, But Given Unsought Better.

On The Bat’s Back I Do Fly After Summer Merrily.

Love Is Too Young To Know What Conscience Is.

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.

And Yet,to Say The Truth, Reason And Love Keep Little Company Together Nowadays.

Suspicion Always Haunts The Guilty Mind.

Ambition, The Soldier's Virtue.

We Are Time's Subjects, And Time Bids Be Gone.

Time Management

Tis The Mind That Makes The Body Rich.

My Joy Is Death- Death, At Whose Name I Oft Have Been Afeard, Because I Wish'd This World's Eternity.

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

I Am Not Of That Feather, To Shake Off My Friend When He Must Need Me

How Poor Are They That Have Have Not Patients.

A Man May See How This World Goes With No Eyes. Look With Thine Ears: See How Yond Justice Rails Upon Yon Simple Thief. Hark, In Thine Ear: Change Places; And, Handy-dandy, Which Is The Justice, Which Is The Thief?

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

Speak, My Fair, And Fairly, I Pray Thee.

To Sue To Live, I Find I Seek To Die; And, Seeking Death, Find Life: Let It Come On.

The Sands Are Number'd That Make Up My Life; Here Must I Stay, And Here My Life Must End.

These Violent Delights Have Violent Ends And In Their Triump Die, Like Fire And Powder Which, As They Kiss, Consume

Romeo And Juliet Love

I Never Yet Did Hear, That The Bruis'd Heart Was Pierced Through The Ear

Twere To Consider Too Curiously, To Consider So.

And She's Fair I Love.

A Devil, A Born Devil On Whose Nature, Nurture Can Never Stick, On Whom My Pain, Humanly Taken, All Lost, Quite Lost.

Look, The World's Comforter, With Weary Gait, His Day's Hot Task Hath Ended In The West: The Owl, Night's Herald, Shrieks-'tis Very Late; The Sheep Are Gone To Fold, Birds To Their Nest; And Coal-black Clouds, That Shadow Heaven's Light, Do Summon Us To Part, And Bid Good Night.

O, Spirit Of Love, How Quick And Fresh Art Thou!

We Are The Lords Of All Eternity

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

Do Not Speak Like A Death's-head, Do Not Bid Me Remember Mine End.

Pray, Do Not Mock Me. I Am A Very Foolish Fond Old Man, Fourscore And Upward, Not An Hour More Nor Less; And, To Deal Plainly, I Fear I Am Not In My Perfect Mind.

In A False Quarrel There Is No True Valor.

A Little Water Clears Us Of This Deed.

To Whom God Will, There Be The Victory.

Grace And Remembrance Be To You Both.

Wedding Anniversary

He's Truly Valiant That Can Wisely Suffer The Worst That Man Can Breathe, And Make His Wrongs His Outsides, To Wear Them Like His Raiment, Carelessly, And Ne'er Prefer His Injuries To His Heart, To Bring It Into Danger.

As Good Luck Would Have It.

Nature's Tears Are Reason's Merriment.

Ships Are But Boards, Sailors But Men; There Be Land-rats And Water-rats, Water-thieves And Land-thieves, I Mean Pirates, And Thenthere Is The Peril Of Waters, Winds, And Rocks.

Light Seeking Light Doth Light Of Light Beguile: So, Ere You Find Where Light In Darkness Lies, Your Light Grows Dark By Losing Of Your Eyes.

My Tongue Will Tell The Anger Of My Heart, Or Else My Heart Concealing It Will Break.

Beware Of Entrance To A Quarrel.

And Too Soon Marred Are Those So Early Made.

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

Come Away, Come Away, Death, And In Sad Cypres Let Me Be Laid; Fly Away, Fly Away, Breath; I Am Slain By A Fair Cruel Maid.

The Breaking Of So Great A Thing Should Make A Greater Crack: The Round World Should Have Shook Lions Into Civil Streets, And Citizens To Their Dens.

Though I Be But Prince Of Wales, Yet I Am The King Of Courtesy.

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

It Was A Lover And His Lass, With A Hey, And A Ho, And A Hey Nonino, That O'er The Green Corn-field Did Pass, In The Spring Time, The Only Pretty Ring Time, When Birds Do Sing, Hey Ding A Ding, Ding; Sweet Lovers Love The Spring.

Love Is My Sin, And Thy Dear Virtue Hate, Hate Of My Sin, Grounded On Sinful Loving.

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

Never Shame To Hear What You Have Nobly Done

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

Murder Most Foul, As In The Best It It; But This Most Foul, Strange, And Unnatural.

Hamlet And Ophelia

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

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

O You Beast! I'll So Maul You And Your Toasting-iron, That You Shall Think The Devil Is Come From Hell.

From Women's Eyes This Doctrine I Derive: They Sparkle Still The Right Promethean Fire; They Are The Books, The Arts, The Academes, That Show, Contain And Nourish All The World.

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.

I Do Repent; But Heaven Hath Pleas'd It So To Punish Me With This, And This With Me, That I Must Be Their Scourge And Minister. I Will Bestow Him, And Will Answer Well The Death I Gave Him. So Again Good Night. I Must Be Cruel Only To Be Kind. Thus Bad Begins And Worse Remains Behind.

And Thence From Athens Turn Away Our Eyes To Seek New Friends And Stranger Companies.

Officers, What Offence Have These Men Done? Dogberry Marry, Sir, They Have Committed False Report; Moreover, They Have Spoken Untruths; Secondarily, They Are Slanders; Sixth And Lastly, They Have Belied A Lady; Thirdly, They Have Verified Unjust Things; And, To Conclude, They Are Lying Knaves.

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

Men's Faults Do Seldom To Themselves Appear.

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

She Speaks Poniards, And Every Word Stabs.

Men Should Be What They Seem; Or Those That Be Not, Would They Might Seem None!.

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

That Strain Again! It Had A Dying Fall: O, It Came O'er My Ear Like The Sweet Sound That Breathes Upon A Bank Of Violets, Stealing And Giving Odour! Enough; No More: 'tis Not So Sweet As It Was Before.

Love, Whose Month Is Ever May, Spied A Blossom Passing Fair, Playing In The Wanton Air: Through The Velvet Leaves The Wind, All Unseen Can Passage Find; That The Lover, Sick To Death, Wish'd Himself The Heaven's Breath.

I Dote On His Very Absence.

I Have Very Poor And Unhappy Brains For Drinking.

The Whirligig Of Time Brings In His Revenges.

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

I Have Sounded The Very Base-string Of Humility.

Oh! It Offends Me To The Soul To Hear A Robust Periwig-pated Fellow, Tear A Passion To Tatters, To Very Rags, To Split The Ears Of The Groundlings.

O, Thou Hast Damnable Iteration; And Art, Indeed, Able To Corrupt A Saint.

Quince Francis Flute, The Bellows-mender. Flute Here, Peter Quince. Quince Flute, You Must Take Thisby On You. Flute What Is Thisby? A Wandering Knight? Quince It Is The Lady That Pyramus Must Love. Flute Nay, Faith, Let Me Not Play A Woman; I Have A Beard Coming.

Devoutly To Be Wish'd. To Die, To Sleep; To Sleep, Perchance To Dream—for In That Sleep Of Death What Dreams May Come,when We Have Shuffled Off This Mortal Coil, Must Give Us Pause, There's The Respect, That Makes Calamity Of So Long Life

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

Important Macbeth

In Brief, Sir, Study What You Most Affect.

If To Do Were As Easy As To Know What Were Good To Do, Chapels Had Been Churches, And Poor Men's Cottage Princes' Palaces.

O Prosperina, For The Flowers Now That, Frighted, Thou Let'st Fall From Dis's Wagon; Daffodils, That Come Before The Swallow Dares, And Take The Winds Of March With Beauty; Violets Dim, But Sweeter Than The Lids Of Juno's Eyes Or Cytherea's Breath; Pale Primroses, That Die Unmarried, Ere They Can Behold Bright Phoebus In His Strength--a Malady Most Incident To Maids; Bold Oxlips And The Crown Imperial; Lilies Of All Kinds, The Flower-de-luce Being One.

I Am A Man More Sinned Against Than Sinning

Be Still Prepared For Death: And Death Or Life Shall Thereby Be The Sweeter.

There Is A Law In Each Well-ordered Nation To Curb Those Raging Appetites That Are Most Disobedient And Refractory.

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

Experience Teacheth Us That Resolution 's A Sole Help At Need: And This, My Lord, Our Honour Teacheth Us, That We Be Bold In Every Enterprise: Then Since There Is No Way, But Fight Or Die, Be Resolute, My Lord, For Victory.

There Live Not Three Good Men Unhanged In England; And One Of Them Is Fat And Grows Old.

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

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

O Sleep! O Gentle Sleep! Nature's Soft Nurse, How Have I Frighted Thee, That Thou No More Wilt Weigh My Eyelids Down And Steep My Senses In Forgetfulness? Why Rather, Sleep, Liest Thou In Smoky Cribs, Upon Uneasy Pallets Stretching Thee, And Hush'd With Buzzing Night-flies To Thy Slumber, Than In The Perfum'd Chambers Of The Great, Under The Canopies Of Costly State, And Lull'd With Sound Of Sweetest Melody?

In That Small [time] Most Greatly Lived This Star Of England: Fortune Made His Sword, By Which The World's Best Garden He Achiev'd And Left It To His Son Imperial Lord. Henry The Sixth, In Infant Bands Crown'd King Of France And England Did This King Succeed; Whose State So Many Of Had The Managing, That They Lost France And Made His England Bleed.

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.

Hamlet: Is This A Prologue, Or The Posy Of A Ring? Ophelia: 'tis Brief, My Lord. Hamlet: As Woman's Love.

Hamlet And Ophelia

One Man In His Time Plays Many Parts.

This Goodly Frame, The Earth, Seems To Me A Sterile Promontory, This Most Excellent Canopy, The Air, Look You, This Brave O'erhanging Firmament, This Majestical Roof Fretted With Golden Fire, Why, It Appears No Other Thing To Me Than A Foul And Pestilent Congregation Of Vapours. What A Piece Of Work Is A Man! How Noble In Reason! How Infinite In Faculty! In Form And Moving How Express And Admirable! In Action How Like An Angel! In Apprehension How Like A God! The Beauty Of The World! The Paragon Of Animals! And Yet, To Me, What Is This Quintessence Of Dust?

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

What Man Art Thou That, Thus Bescreened In Night, So Stumblest On My Counsel? *who Are You? Why Do You Hide In The Darkness And Listen To My Private Thoughts?*

If Music Be The Food Of Love, Play On, Give Me Excess Of It; That Surfeiting, The Appetite May Sicken, And So Die.

Unrequited Love

Tis Much When Sceptres Are In Children's Hands, But More When Envy Breeds Unkind Division: There Comes The Ruin, There Begins Confusion.

Do You Bite Your Thumb At Us, Sir?

Romeo And Juliet Love

The Love That Follows Us Sometime Is Our Trouble, Which Still We Thank As Love.

It Is My Soul That Calls Upon My Name; How Silver-sweet Sound Lovers' Tongues By Night, Like Softest Music To Attending Ears! -romeo

Patience Is Sottish, And Impatience Does Become A Dog That's Mad.

An Old Man, Broken With The Storms Of State, Is Come To Lay His Weary Bones Among Ye; Give Him A Little Earth For Charity!

An Old Black Ram Is Tupping Your White Ewe

But 'tis Common Proof, That Lowliness Is Young Ambition's Ladder, Whereto The Climber-upward Turns His Face; But When He Once Attains The Upmost Round, He Then Turns His Back, Looks In The Clouds, Scorning The Vase Defrees By Which He Did Ascend.

Nothing Routs Us But The Villainy Of Our Fears.

A Thousand Moral Paintings I Can Show That Shall Demonstrate These Quick Blows Of Fortune's More Pregnantly Than Words.

Time Is The King Of Men.

To Business That We Love We Rise Betime, And Go To't With Delight.

Faults That Are Rich Are Fair.

O Momentary Grace Of Mortal Men, Which We More Hunt For Than The Grace Of God!

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

Taffeta Phrases, Silken Terms Precise, Three-piled Hyperboles, Spruce Affection, Figures Pedantical--these Summer Flies Have Blown Me Full Of Maggot Ostentation.

Virtue Is Bold, And Goodness Never Fearful.

Romeo: Courage, Man; The Hurt Cannot Be Much. Mercutio: No, 'tis Not So Deep As A Well, Nor So Wide As A Church-door; But 'tis Enough, 'twill Serve. Ask For Me Tomorrow, And You Shall Find Me A Grave Man.

Fie, Fie, How Frantically I Square My Talk!

Of All The Fair Resort Of Gentlemen That Every Day With Parle Encounter Me, In Thy Opinion Which Is Worthiest Love?

Good Things Should Be Praised.

Thy Friendship Makes Us Fresh.

O, Reason Not The Need!

So, You Are Very Welcome To Our House. It Must Appear In Other Ways Than Words, Therefore, I Scant This Breathing Courtesy.

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

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

Good Morrow, 'tis Saint Valentine's Day, All In The Morn Betime, And I A Maid At Your Window, To Be Your Valentine.

Double, Double, Toil And Trouble; Fire Burn, And Cauldron Bubble!

Whatever Praises Itself But In The Deed, Devours The Deed In The Praise.

Vanity And Pride

How Much An Ill Word May Empoison Liking!

Let Those That Play Your Clowns Speak No More Than Is Set Down For Them.

When Love Begins To Sicken And Decay It Uses An Enforced Ceremony.

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.

Though Fortune's Malice Overthrow My State, My Mind Exceeds The Compass Of Her Wheel.

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

Thou Ominous And Fearful Owl Of Death.

Greatness, Once Fallen Out With Fortune, Must Fall Out With Men Too.

I Knew When Seven Justices Could Not Take Up A Quarrel, But When The Parties Were Met Themselves, One Of Them Thought But Of An If, As, 'if You Said So, Then I Said So;' And They Shook Hands And Swore Brothers. Your If Is The Only Peacemaker; Much Virtue In If.

My Only Love Sprung From My Only Hate.

I Will Make Thee Think Thy Swan A Crow.

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.

The Earth, That Is Nature's Mother, Is Her Tomb.

Things Base And Vile, Holding No Quantity, Love Can Transpose To Form And Dignity. Love Looks Not With The Eyes, But With The Mind, And Therefore Is Winged Cupid Painted Blind. Nor Hath Love's Mind Of Any Judgment Taste; Wings And No Eyes Figure Unheedy Haste.

We Cannot All Be Masters, Nor All Masters Cannot Be Truly Followed.

My Master Hath Been An Honorable Gentleman; Tricks He Hath Had In Him Which Gentlemen Have.

An Arrant Traitor As Any Is In The Universal World, Or In France, Or In England.

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

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

At Christmas, I No More Desire A Rose.

I Am A Foe To Tyrants, And My Country's Friend.

Policy Sits Above Conscience.

He Kills Her In Her Own Humor.

Taming Of The Shrew

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

Take All The Swift Advantage Of The Hours.

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.

Sweetest Nut Hath Sourest Rind.

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

Till Our King Henry Had Shook Hands With Death.

He Wears The Rose Of Youth Upon Him.

As Chaste As Is The Bud Ere It Be Blown.

Angels Are Bright Still, Though The Brightest Fell.

Important Macbeth

Fight Valiantly To-day; And Yet I Do Thee Wrong To Mind Thee Of It, For Thou Art Framed Of The Firm Truth Of Valor.

So May The Outward Shows Be Least Themselves: The World Is Still Deceived With Ornament. In Law, What Plea So Tainted And Corrupt, But, Being Seasoned With A Gracious Voice, Obscures The Show Of Evil? In Religion, What Damned Error, But Some Sober Brow Will Bless It And Approve It With A Text, Hiding The Grossness With Fair Ornament? There Is No Vice So Simple But Assumes Some Mark Of Virtue On His Outward Parts.

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