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It Is Not Politic In The Commonwealth Of Nature To Preserve Virginity. Loss Of Virginity Is Rational Increase, And There Was Never Virgin Got Till Virginity Was First Lost. That You Were Made Of Is Metal To Make Virgins. Virginity, By Being Once Lost, May Be Ten Times Found: By Being Ever Kept, It Is Ever Lost. ’tis Too Cold A Companion: Away With ’t!

-William Shakespeare

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It Is Not Politic

William Shakespeare

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It Is Not Politic In The Commonwealth Of Nature To Preserve Virginity. Loss Of Virginity Is Rational Increase, And There Was Never Virgin Got Till Virginity Was First Lost. That You Were Made Of Is Metal To Make Virgins. Virginity, By Being Once Lost, May Be Ten Times Found: By Being Ever Kept, It Is Ever Lost. ’tis Too Cold A Companion: Away With ’t!

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Either Our History Shall With Full Mouth Speak Freely Of Our Acts, Or Else Our Grave, Like Turkish Mute, Shall Have A Tongueless Mouth, Not Worshipped With A Waxen Epitaph.

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

No Profit Grows Where No Pleasure Is Taken.

Some There Be That Shadows Kiss; Such Have But A Shadow's Bliss.

More Of Your Conversation Would Infect My Brain.

These Violent Delights Have Violent Ends.

Romeo And Juliet Love

Truly Thou Art Damned, Like An Ill-roasted Egg, All On One Side.

He Is The Most Wretched Of Men Who Has Never Felt Adversity.

Courage And Comfort, All Shall Yet Go Well

The More Pity, That Fools May Not Speak Wisely What Wise Men Do Foolishly.

Funny Inspirational

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

In Maiden Meditation, Fancy Free.

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

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

O, When She's Angry, She Is Keen And Shrewd! She Was A Vixen When She Went To School; And Though She Be But Little, She Is Fierce.

All Pity Choked With Custom Of Fell Deeds.

He That Keeps Not Crust Nor Crum Weary Of All, Shall Want Some.

Cry Havoc And Let Slip The Dogs Of War!

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?

Daffodils, That Come Before The Swallow Dares, And Take The Winds Of March With Beauty.

A Nun Of Winter's Sisterhood Kisses Not More Religiously; The Very Ice Of Chastity Is In Them.

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

A Happy Ending Cannot Come In The Middle Of The Story

A Poor Thing, Perhaps, But My Own.

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

Thou Hast Not Half That Power To Do Me Harm As I Have To Be Hurt.

Love All. Trust A Few. Do Wrong To None. This Above All: To Thine Own Self Be True. No Legacy Is So Rich As Honesty. Brevity Is The Soul Of Wit

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

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

I Have Very Poor And Unhappy Brains For Drinking.

But No Perfection Is So Absolute, That Some Impurity Doth Not Pollute.

There Is Little Choice In A Barrel Of Rotten Apples.

Nothing Comes From Doing Nothing.

The Web Of Our Life Is Of A Mingled Yarn, Good And Ill Together: Our Virtues Would Be Proud If Our Faults Whipped Them Not; And Our Crimes Would Despair If They Were Not Cherished By Our Own Virtues.

The Devil Can Cite Scripture For His Purpose. An Evil Soul Producing Holy Witness Is Like A Villain With A Smiling Cheek, A Goodly Apple Rotten At The Heart. O, What A Goodly Outside Falsehood Hath!

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

Thanks, Sir; All The Rest Is Mute.

He Shall Spurn Fate, Scorn Death, And Bear His Hopes 'bove Wisdom, Grace And Fear: And You All Know, Security Is Mortals' Chiefest Enemy.

We Must Be Gentle Now We Are Gentlemen.

Grief Best Is Pleased With Grief's Society.

But Miserable Most, To Love Unloved? This You Should Pity Rather Than Despise

The Time Of Life Is Short; To Spend That Shortness Basely Were Too Long.

Shortness Of Life

We Cannot All Be Masters.

Self-love, My Liege, Is Not So Vile A Sin, As Self-neglecting.

But Flies An Eagle Flight, Bold And Forth On, Leaving No Tract Behind.

All His Successors Gone Before Him Have Done 't; And All His Ancestors That Come After Him May.

One Sin, I Know, Another Doth Provoke. Murder's As Near To Lust As Flame To Smoke.

At Once, Good Night- Stand Not Upon The Order Of Your Going, But Go At Once.

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

Be Lion-mettled, Proud, And Take No Care Who Chafes, Who Frets, Or Where Conspirers Are!

He's Loved Of The Distracted Multitude, Who Like Not In Their Judgement, But Their Eyes.

In Thy Youth Wast As True A Lover, As Ever Sighed Upon A Midnight Pillow

Give Thanks For What You Are Today And Go On Fighting For What You Gone Be Tomorrow

Lions Make Leopards Tame.

Go, Bid The Soldiers Shoot.

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

...too Much Sadness Hath Congealed Your Blood,and Melancholy Is The Nurse Of Frenzy.

Women Are Angels, Wooing: Things Won Are Done; Joy's Soul Lies In The Doing: That She Beloved Knows Naught, That Knows Not This-- Men Prize The Thing Ungained More Than It Is.

And Sleep, That Sometime Shuts Up Sorrow's Eye, Steal Me Awhile From Mine Own Company.

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

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

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.

Women May Fail When There Is No Strength In Man

It Is That Fery Person For All The Orld, As Just As You Will Desire; And Seven Hundred Pounds Of Moneys, And Gold, And Silver, Is Her Grandsire Upon His Death's-bed-got Deliver To A Joyful Resurrections!

Go, Write It In A Martial Hand; Be Curst And Brief; It Is No Matter How Witty, So It Be Eloquent And Fun Of Invention: Taunt Him With The Licence Of Ink: If Thou Thou'st Him Some Thrice, It Shall Not Be Amiss; And As Many Lies As Will Lie In Thy Shee.

Let The Doors Be Shut Upon Him, That He May Play The Fool No Where But In's Own House.

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

Shall Remain! Hear You This Triton Of The Minnows? Mark You His Absolute 'shall'?

To Thine Own Self Be True, And It Must Follow, As The Night The Day, Thou Canst Not Then Be False To Any Man.

I Am A Jew. Hath Not A Jew Eyes? Hath Not A Jew Hands, Organs, Dimensions, Senses, Affections, Passions?

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

I Am In Blood Stepp'd In So Far, That, Should I Wade No More, Returning Were As Tedious As Go O'er.

What Man Dare, I Dare. Approach Thou Like The Rugged Russian Bear, The Armed Rhinoceros, Or Th' Hyrcan Tiger; Take Any Shape But That, And My Firm Nerves Shall Never Tremble.

I Always Thought It Was Both Impious And Unnatural That Such Immanity And Bloody Strife Should Reign Among Professors Of One Faith.

If You Prick Us Do We Not Bleed? If You Tickle Us Do We Not Laugh? If You Poison Us Do We Not Die? And If You Wrong Us Shall We Not Revenge?

Thou Whoreson, Senseless Villain!

Come Give Us A Taste Of Your Quality.

There Is None But He Whose Being I Do Fear; And Under Him My Genius Is Rebuked, As It Is Said Mark Antony's Was By Caesar.

How Many Fond Fools Serve Mad Jealousy!

Hal, If I Tell Thee A Lie, Spit In My Face, Call Me Horse.

Heaven Give You Many, Many Merry Days.

To Pore Upon A Book, To Seek The Light Of Truth.

Canst Thou Not Minister To A Mind Diseased, Pluck From The Memory A Rooted Sorrow, Raze Out The Written Troubles Of The Brain

Words To Deeds Cold Breath Gives.

I Have Not Slept. Between The Acting Of A Dreadful Thing And The First Motion, All The Interim Is Like A Phantasma, Or A Hideous Dream: The Genius And The Mortal Instruments Are Then In Council; And The State Of Man, Like To A Little Kingdom, Suffers Then The Nature Of An Insurrection.

I Have A Bone To Pick With Fate

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

And A Man's Life's No More Than To Say "one."

Preposterous Ass, That Never Read So Far To Know The Cause Why Music Was Ordain'd! Was It Not To Refresh The Mind Of Man, After His Studies Or His Usual Pain?

We Will Meet; And There We May Rehearse Most Obscenely And Courageously.

I Will Kill Thee A Hundred And Fifty Ways.

Show Me A Mistress That Is Passing Fair, What Doth Her Beauty Serve But As A Note Where I May Read Who Pass'd That Passing Fair?

And Where Two Raging Fires Meet Together, They Do Consume The Thing That Feeds Their Fury.

The Good I Stand On Is My Truth And Honesty.

Truth And Honesty

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.

Like A Dull Actor Now, I Have Forgot My Part, And I Am Out, Even To A Full Disgrace.

You Undergo Too Strict A Paradox, Striving To Make An Ugly Deed Look Fair.

I Stand For Judgment: Answer: Shall I Have It?

Thus Is His Cheek The Map Of Days Outworn.

Ambition, The Soldier's Virtue, Rather Makes Choice Of Loss, Than Gain Which Darkens Him.

Grace Me No Grace, Nor Uncle Me No Uncle; I Am No Traitor's Uncle, And That Word "grace" In An Ungracious Mouth Is But Profane.

Desire Of Having Is The Sin Of Covetousness.

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.

Thou Hast Her, France; Let Her Be Thine, For We Have No Such Daughter, Nor Shall Ever See That Face Of Hers Again. Therefore Be Gone Without Our Grace, Our Love, Our Benison.

Until I Know This Sure Uncertainty, I'll Entertain The Offered Fallacy.

Presume Not That I Am The Thing I Was.

By God, I Cannot Flatter, I Do Defy The Tongues Of Soothers! But A Braver Place In My Heart's Love Hath No Man Than Yourself. Nay, Task Me To My Word; Approve Me, Lord.

I Hate Ingratitude More In A Man Than Lying, Vainness, Babbling, Drunkenness, Or Any Taint Of Vice Whose Strong Corruption Inhabits Our Frail Blood".

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!

Such As We Are Made Of, Such We Be.

Every Man Has A Bag Hanging Before Him, In Which He Puts His Neighbour's Faults, And Another Behind Him In Which He Stows His Own.

Tell Me Where Is Fancy Bred, Or In The Heart, Or In The Head? How Begot, How Nourished? Reply, Reply. It Is Engend'red In The Eyes, With Gazing Fed, And Fancy Dies In The Cradle Where It Lies.

My Purpose Is, Indeed, A Horse Of That Color.

Be Merry, And Employ Your Chiefest Thoughts To Courtship And Such Fair Ostents Of Love As Shall Conveniently Become You There.

The Heavens Themselves, The Planets, And This Centre Observe Degree, Priority, And Place, Insisture, Course, Proportion, Season, Form, Office, And Custom, In All Line Of Order.

We Do Pray For Mercy, And That Same Prayer Doth Teach Us All To Render The Deeds Of Mercy.

For I Can Raise No Money By Vile Means. By Heaven, I Had Rather Coin My Heart, And Drop My Blood For Drachmas

A Good Heart 'is Worth Gold.

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.

The Crow Doth Sing As Sweetly As The Lark When Neither Is Attended; And I Think The Nightingale, If She Should Sing By Day When Every Goose Is Cackling, Would Be Thought No Better A Musician Than The Wren. How Many Thing By Season Seasoned Are To Their Right Praise And True Perfection!

Great Men May Jest With Saints; 'tis Wit In Them; But, In The Less Foul Profanation.

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

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?

'tis Best To Weigh The Enemy More Mighty Than He Seems.

Small To Greater Matters Must Give Way.

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

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

This Night I Hold An Old Accustomed Feast, Whereto I Have Invited Many A Guest, Such As I Love; And You Among The Store, One More, Most Welcome, Makes My Number More.

Boldness Be My Friend.

O How Wretched Is That Poor Man That Hangs On Princes Favors! There Is Betwixt That Smile We Would Aspire To, That Sweet Aspect Of Princes, And Their Ruin, More Pangs And Fears Than Wars Or Women Have, And When He Falls, He Falls Like Lucifer, Never To Hope Again.

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

Reputation Is An Idle And Most False Imposition; Oft Got Without Merit, And Lost Without Deserving.

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

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

And Writers Say, As The Most Forward Bud Is Eaten By The Canker Ere It Blow, Even So By Love The Young And Tender Wit Is Turn'd To Folly, Blasting In The Bud, Losing His Verdure Even In The Prime, And All The Fair Effects Of Future Hopes.

When Great Leaves Fall, The Winter Is At Hand.

Think'st Thou It Honourable For A Noble Man Still To Remember Wrongs?

What, My Dear Lady Disdain! Are You Yet Living? Beatrice: Is It Possible Disdain Should Die While She Hath Such Meet Food To Feed It As Signior Benedick?

No, Cassius; For The Eye Sees Not Itself, But By Reflection, By Some Other Things.

All Hoods Make Not Monks.

And Yet, By Heaven, I Think My Love As Rare As Any She Belied With False Compare.

We That Are True Lovers Run Into Strange Capers.

Maids Want Nothing But Husbands, And When They Have Them, They Want Everything.

To Be In Love, Where Scorn Is Bought With Groans; Coy Looks, With Heart-sore Sighs; One Fading Moment's Mirth

But I Remember Now I Am In This Earthly World, Where To Do Harm Is Often Laudable, To Do Good Sometime Accounted Dangerous Folly.

Blind Fear, That Seeing Reason Leads, Finds Safer Footing Than Blind Reason Stumbling Without Fear: To Fear The Worst Oft Cures The Worse.

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.

Things Sweet To Taste Prove In Digestion Sour.

The Nature Of Bad News Affects The Teller.

Oppose Not Rage While Rage Is In Its Force, But Give It Way A While And Let It Waste.

Nothing Can Come Of Nothing.

Ships Are But Boards, Sailors But Men.

Some Sins Do Bear Their Privilege On Earth, And So Doth Yours: Your Fault Was Not Your Folly; Needs Must You Lay Your Heart At His Dispose, Subjected Tribute To Commanding Love, Against Whose Fury And Unmatched Force The Aweless Lion Could Not Wage The Fight Nor Keep His Princely Heart From Richard's Hand.

We Suffer A Lot The Few Things We Lack And We Enjoy Too Little The Many Things We Have.

His Jest Will Savour But Of Shallow Wit, When Thousands Weep, More Than Did Laugh At It.

Our Purses Shall Be Proud, Our Garments Poor; For 'tis The Mind That Makes The Body Rich

Angels And Ministers Of Grace Defend Us! Be Thou A Spirit Of Health, Or Goblin Damn'd, Bring With Thee Airs From Heaven, Or Blasts From Hell, Be Thy Intents Wicked, Or Charitable, Thou Com'st In Such A Questionable Shape, That I Will Speak To Thee.

Let There Be Gall Enough In Thy Ink, Though Thou Write With A Goose-pen, No Matter.

What Is Thy Sentence Then But Speechless Death.

Oh What Fools We Mortals Are.

Full Oft We See Cold Wisdom Waiting On Superfluous Folly.

The Instruments Of Darkness Tell Us Truths.

Fairies Use Flowers For Their Charactery.

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

Nor Aught So Good But Strained From That Fair Use, Revolts From True Birth Stumbling On Abuse.

Two Women Placed Together Makes Cold Weather.

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.

Gold Were As Good As Twenty Orators.

Now My Charms Are All O'erthrown, And What Strength I Have's Mine Own, Which Is Most Faint: Now, 'tis True, Or Sent To Naples. Let Me Not, Since I Have My Dukedom Got And Pardon 'd The Deceiver, Dwell In This Bare Island By Your Spell; I Must Be Here Confined By You, But Release Me From My Bands With The Help Of Your Good Hands: Gentle Breath Of Yours My Sails Must Fill, Or Else My Project Fails, Which Was To Please: Now I Want Spirits To Enforce, Art To Enchant, And My Ending Is Despair, Unless I Be Relieved By Prayer, Which Pierces So, That It Assaults Mercy Itself, And Frees All Faults. As You From Crimes Would Pardon'd Be, Let Your Indulgence Set Me Free.

Now The Melancholy God Protect Thee, And The Tailor Make Thy Garments Of Changeable Taffeta, For Thy Mind Is Opal.

I May Command Where I Adore.

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

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

I Will Be Treble-sinewed, Hearted, Breathed, And Fight Maliciously; For When Mine Hours Were Nice And Lucky, Men Did Ransom Lives Of Me For Jests; But Now I'll Set My Teeth And Send To Darkness All That Stop Me.

Beshrew That Heart That Makes My Heart To Groan For That Deep Wound It Gives My Friend And Me; Is't Not Enough To Torture Me Alone, But Slave To Slavery My Sweet'st Friend Must Be?

How Is It That The Clouds Still Hang On You?

Hamlet And Ophelia

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

To Loathe The Taste Of Sweetness, Whereof Little More Than A Little Is By Much Too Much.

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

Methought I Heard A Voice Cry 'sleep No More! Macbeth Does Murder Sleep', The Innocent Sleep, Sleep That Knits Up The Ravell'd Sleeve Of Care, The Death Of Each Day's Life, Sore Labour's Bath, Balm Of Hurt Minds, Great Nature's Second Course, Chief Nourisher In Life's Feast...

I Was A Coward On Instinct.

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?

Lord Bacon Told Sir Edward Coke When He Was Boasting, The Less You Speak Of Your Greatness, The More Shall I Think Of It.

And So, From Hour To Hour, We Ripe And Ripe. And Then, From Hour To Hour, We Rot And Rot; And Thereby Hangs A Tale.

Sometimes, Less Is More.

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

And Makes Me Poor Indeed.

No Legacy Is So Rich As Honesty.

Never; He Will Not: Age Cannot Wither Her, Nor Custom Stale Her Infinite Variety: Other Women Cloy The Appetites They Feed: But She Makes Hungry Where Most She Satisfies.

Go To You Bosom: Knock There, And Ask Your Heart What It Doth Know.

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

Right Joyous Are We To Behold Your Face, Most Worthy Brother England; Fairly Met!

What Light Through Yonder Window Breaks?

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.

The Attempt And Not The Deed Confounds Us.

More Can I Bear Than You Dare Execute.

Let Me Be Boiled To Death With Melancholy.

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

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

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