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Love Comforteth Like Sunshine After Rain, But Lust's Effect Is Tempest After Sun; Love's Gentle Spring Doth Always Fresh Remain, Lust's Winter Comes Ere Summer Half Be Done; Love Surfeits Not, Lust Like A Glutton Dies; Love Is All Truth, Lust Full Of Forged Lies.

-William Shakespeare

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Love Comforteth Like Sunshine

William Shakespeare

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Love Comforteth Like Sunshine After Rain, But Lust's Effect Is Tempest After Sun; Love's Gentle Spring Doth Always Fresh Remain, Lust's Winter Comes Ere Summer Half Be Done; Love Surfeits Not, Lust Like A Glutton Dies; Love Is All Truth, Lust Full Of Forged Lies.

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He Is Well Paid That Is Well Satisfied.

Oh, She Doth Teach The Torches To Burn Bright! It Seems She Hangs Upon The Cheek Of Night Like A Rich Jewel In An Ethiope’s Ear, Beauty Too Rich For Use, For Earth Too Dear. So Shows A Snowy Dove Trooping With Crows As Yonder Lady O'er Her Fellows Shows. The Measure Done, I’ll Watch Her Place Of Stand, And, Touching Hers, Make Blessèd My Rude Hand. Did My Heart Love Till Now? Forswear It, Sight! For I Ne'er Saw True Beauty Till This Night.

Love Is Your Master, For He Masters You; And He That Is So Yoked By A Fool Methinks Should Not Be Chronicled For Wise.

I'll Forbear; And Am Fallen Out With My More Headier Will To Take The Indisposed And Sickly Fit For The Sound Man.

Be Not Afraid Of Greatness.

Sin, That Amends, Is But Patched With Virtue.

Tis A Cruelty To Load A Fallen Man.

My Desolation Does Begin To Make A Better Life.

Sweet Flowers Are Slow And Weeds Make Haste.

You Know That Love Will Creep In Service Where It Cannot Go.

Dissembling Harlot, Thou Art False In All!

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.

For It Falls Out That What We Have We Prize Not To The Worth Whiles We Enjoy It, But Being Lacked And Lost, Why, Then We Rack The Value, Then We Find The Virtue That Possession Would Not Show Us While It Was Ours.

Fondling,' She Saith, 'since I Have Hemm'd Thee Here Within The Circuit Of This Ivory Pale, I'll Be A Park, And Thou Shalt Be My Deer; Feed Where Thou Wilt, On Mountain Or In Dale: Graze On My Lips, And If Those Hills Be Dry, Stray Lower, Where The Pleasant Fountains Lie.

Kindness In Women, Not Their Beauteous Looks, Shall Win My Love.

The Rarer Action Is In Virtue Than In Vengeance.

What? Do I Love Her, That I Desire To Hear Her Speak Again, And Feast Upon Her Eyes

If There Were Reason For These Miseries, Then Into Limits Could I Bind My Woes. If The Winds Rages, Doth Not The Sea Wax Mad, Threat'ning The Welkin With Its Big-swoll'n Face? And Wilt Though Have A Reason For This Coil? I Am The Sea. Hark How Her Sighs Doth Blow. She Is The Weeping Welkin, I The Earth.

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.

Bow, Stubborn Knees, And, Heart With Strings Of Steel, Be Soft As Sinews Of The New-born Babe. All Many Be Well.

The Eye Sees All, But The Mind Shows Us What We Want To See.

What A Terrible Era In Which Idiots Govern The Blind.

How Lush And Lusty The Grass Looks! How Green!

Travelers Must Be Content.

It Is A Tale Told By An Idiot, Full Of Sound And Fury; Signifying Nothing.

Where Every Something, Being Blent Together Turns To A Wild Of Nothing.

The Prince Of Darkness Is A Gentleman!

I Would Challenge You To A Battle Of Wits, But I See You Are Unarmed!

Thank Me No Thankings, Nor Proud Me No Prouds.

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.

Thy Tongue Makes Welsh As Sweet As Ditties Highly Penn'd, Sung By A Fair Queen In A Summer's Bower, With Ravishing Division, To Her Lute.

What's To Come Is Still Unsure: In Delay There Lies No Plenty; Then Come Kiss Me, Sweet And Twenty, Youth's A Stuff Will Not Endure.

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

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?

You Are Not Wood, You Are Not Stones, But Men.

The Quality Of Mercy Is Not Strained

I Will Be Free, Even To The Uttermost, As I Please, In Words.

Love All, Trust A Few, Do Wrong To None.

A Heavy Heart Bears Not A Nimble Tongue.

That Island Of England Breeds Very Valiant Creatures; Their Mastiffs Are Of Unmatchable Courage.

Such As We Are Made Of, Such We Be.

The Trust I Have Is In Mine Innocence, And Therefore Am I Bold And Resolute.

Violent Fires Soon Burn Out Themselves, Small Showers Last Long, But Sudden Storms Are Short; He Tires Betimes That Spurs Too Fast.

He Is White-livered And Red-faced.

It Were A Grief So Brief To Part With Thee. Farewell.

My Nature Is Subdued To What It Works In, Like The Dyer's Hand.

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

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

I'll Be Damned For Never A King's Son In Christendom.

Jaques: Rosalind Is Your Love's Name? Orlando: Yes, Just. Jaques: I Do Not Like Her Name. Orlando: There Was No Thought Of Pleasing You When She Was Christened.

Who Can Be Patient In Extremes?

Every True Man's Apparel Fits Your Thief.

Grief Best Is Pleased With Grief's Society.

Thou Mak'st Me Merry: I Am Full Of Pleasure; Let Us Be Jocund

Since My Dear Soul Was Mistress Of Her Choice And Could Of Men Distinguish Her Election, Sh'ath Sealed Thee For Herself.

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

We Must Follow, Not Force Providence.

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.

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

Then Will I Raise Aloft The Milk-white Rose. For Whose Sweet Smell The Air Shall Be Perfumed.

Then Come Kiss Me, Sweet And Twenty.

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.

I Must Be Cruel Only To Be Kind; Thus Bad Begins, And Worse Remains Behind.

Denmark In Hamlet

Hamlet And Ophelia

The Old Folk, Time's Doting Chronicles.

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

Condemn The Fault And Not The Actor Of It?

Measure For Measure

I Do Not Know What Kind Of My Obedience I Should Tender. More Than My All Is Nothing; Nor My Prayers Are Not Words Holy Hallowed, Nor My Wishes More Worth Than Empty Vanities; Yet Prayers And Wishes Are All I Can Return.

Yet Do I Fear Thy Nature; It Is Too Full O' The Milk Of Human Kindness To Catch The Nearest Way: Thou Wouldst Be Great; Art Not Without Ambition, But Without The Illness Should Attend It: What Thou Wouldst Highly, That Wouldst Thou Holily; Wouldst Not Play False, And Yet Wouldst Wrongly Win.

Temptation Is The Fire That Brings Up The Scum Of The Heart.

Love Adds A Precious Seeing To The Eye.

Were It Good To Set The Exact Wealth Of All Our States All At One Cast? To Set So Rich A Main On The Nice Hazard Of One Doubtful Hour? It Were Not Good.

Enough No More; Tis Not So Sweet Now As It Was Before.

Twelfth Night Important

O Wonderful, Wonderful, And Most Wonderful Wonderful! And Yet Again Wonderful, And After That, Out Of All Hooping.

I Came, Saw, And Overcame.

And Why Not Death Rather Than Living Torment? To Die Is To Be Banish'd From Myself; And Silvia Is Myself: Banish'd From Her Is Self From Self: A Deadly Banishment!

The Whirligig Of Time Brings In His Revenges.

If I Were A Woman I Would Kiss As Many Of You As Had Beards That Pleased Me, Complexions That Liked Me And Breaths That I Defied Not

Wishers Were Ever Fools.

The Teeming Autumn Big With Rich Increase, Bearing The Wanton Burden Of The Prime Like Widowed Wombs After Their Lords Decease.

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.

Were Beauty Under Twenty Locks Kept Fast, Yet Love Breaks Through And Picks Them All At Last.

I Am Sure, Though You Can Guess What Temperance Should Be, You Know Not What It Is.

I Should Think This A Gull, But That The White-bearded Fellow Speaks It; Knavery Cannot, Sure, Hide Himself In Such Reverence.

All Pride Is Willing Pride.

Thou Shouldst Not Have Been Old Till Thou Hadst Been Wise.

We Cannot Fight For Love, As Men May Do; We Shou'd Be Woo'd, And Were Not Made To Woo

An Old Black Ram Is Tupping Your White Ewe

Look On Beauty, And You Shall See 'tis Purchased By The Weight; Which Therein Works A Miracle In Nature, Making Them Lightest That Wear Most Of It: So Are Those Crisped Snaky Golden Locks Which Make Such Wanton Gambols With The Wind Upon Supposed Fairness, Often Known To Be The Dowry Of A Second Head, The Skull That Bred Them In The Sepulchre.

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

When I Have Plucked The Rose, I Cannot Give It Vital Growth Again, It Needs Must Wither. I'll Smell It On The Tree.

He Doth Nothing But Talk Of His Horses.

The Jury Passing On The Prisoner's Life May In The Sworn Twelve Have A Thief Or Two Guiltier Than Him They Try.

Roses Have Thorns, And Silver Fountains Mud; Clouds And Eclipses Stain Both Moon And Sun, And Loathsome Canker Lies In Sweetest Bud. All Men Make Faults.

If Thou Wilt Lend This Money, Lend It Not As To Thy Friends; For When Did Friendship Take A Breed For Barren Metal Of His Friend?

Merchant Of Venice

One Touch Of Nature Makes The Whole World Kin.

Speak Me Fair In Death.

I'll Fight, Till From My Bones My Flesh Be Hacked.

Not From The Stars Do I My Judgement Pluck, And Yet Methinks I Have Astronomy. But Not To Tell Of Good Or Evil Luck, Of Plagues, Of Dearths, Or Season's Quality; Nor Can I Fortune To Brief Minutes Tell ... Or Say With Princes If It Shall Go Well.

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.

I'll Not Meddle With It; It Is A Dangerous Thing; It Makes A Man A Coward; A Man Cannot Steal, But It Accuseth Him; A Man Cannot Swear, But It Checks Him; A Man Cannot Lie With His Neighbor's Wife, But It Detects Him. 'tis A Blushing, Shame -faced Spirit, That Mutinies In A Man's Bosom ; It Fills One Full Of Obstacles; It Made Me Once Restore A Purse Of Gold That By Chance I Found; It Beggars Any Man That Keeps It; It Is Turned Out Of All Towns And Cities For A Dangerous Thing; And Every Man That Means To Live Well Endeavors To Trust To Himself And Live Without It.

Thou Frothy Tickle-brained Hedge-pig!

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

He Hath Eaten Me Out Of House And Home.

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.

Death Is My Son-in-law, Death Is My Heir.

The Cunning Livery Of Hell.

Woah Is Me To Have Seen What I Seen See What I See

Hamlet And Ophelia

Take All The Swift Advantage Of The Hours.

What Stronger Breastplate Than A Heart Untainted! Thrice Is He Arm'd, That Hath His Quarrel Just.

O Death, Made Proud With Pure And Princely Beauty!

Ready To Go But Never To Return.

There Is Nothing Either Good Or Bad But Thinking Makes It So.

Winding Up Days With Toil And Nights With Sleep.

Love Is Not Love That Alters When It Alteration Finds.

Grief Hath Two Tongues; And Never Woman Yet Could Rule Them Both Without Ten Women's Wit.

Friendly Counsel Cuts Off Many Foes.

Guiltiness Will Speak, Though Tongues Were Out Of Use

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

What Is Light, If Sylvia Be Not Seen? What Is Joy If Sylvia Be Not By?

It Is The Disease Of Not Listening...... That I Am Troubled With.

Keep Time! How Sour Sweet Music Is When Time Is Broke And No Proportion Kept! So Is It In The Music Of Men's Lives. I Wasted Time And Now Doth Time Waste Me.

Opinion's But A Fool, That Makes Us Scan The Outward Habit By The Inward Man.

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

My Grief Lies Onward, And My Joy Behind.

Within The Book And Volume Of Thy Brain.

Beauty Provoketh Thieves Sooner Than Gold.

Vaulting Ambition, Which O'erleaps Itself And Falls On The Other Side

Day, Night, Late, Early, At Home, Abroad, Alone, In Company, Waking Or Sleeping, Still My Care Hath Been To Have Her Match'd; And Having Now Provided A Gentleman Of Princely Parentage, Of Fair Demesnes, Youthful, And Nobly Train'd, Stuff'd, As They Say, With Honourable Parts, Proportion'd As One's Thought Would Wish A Man- And Then To Have A Wretched Puling Fool, A Whining Mammet, In Her Fortune's Tender, To Answer 'i'll Not Wed, I Cannot Love; I Am Too Young, I Pray You Pardon Me'!

Like As The Waves Make Towards The Pebbl'd Shore, So Do Our Minutes, Hasten To Their End.

The Poorest Service Is Repaid With Thanks.

Taming Of The Shrew

Therefore, To Be Possess'd With Double Pomp, To Guard A Title That Was Rich Before, To Gild Refined Gold, To Paint The Lily, To Throw A Perfume On The Violet, To Smooth The Ice, Or Add Another Hue Unto The Rainbow, Or With Taper-light To Seek The Beauteous Eye Of Heaven To Garnish, Is Wasteful And Ridiculous Excess.

I Hold The World But As The World, Gratiano; A Stage Where Every Man Must Play A Part, And Mine Is A Sad One.

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.

I Cannot Draw A Cart, Nor Eat Dried Oats; If It Be Man's Work, I'll Do't.

But Men May Construe Things After Their Fashion, Clean From The Purpose Of The Things Themselves.

They Lie Deadly That Tell You Have Good Faces.

Frailty, Thy Name Is Woman!

Up And Down, Up And Down I Will Lead Them Up And Down I Am Feared In Field In Town Goblin, Lead Them Up And Down

You Have Witchcraft In Your Lips

Thou Shalt Be Both The Plaintiff And The Judge Of Thine Own Cause.

If Ever Thou Be'st Bound In Thy Scarf And Beaten, Thou Shalt Find What It Is To Be Proud Of Thy Bondage.

Love's Stories Written In Love's Richest Books. To Fan The Moonbeams From His Sleeping Eyes.

Use Every Man After His Desert, And Who Should Scape Whipping?

Not That I Loved Caesar Less, But That I Loved Rome More.

No Reckoning Made, But Sent To My Account With All My Imperfections On My Head.

Virtue And Genuine Graces In Themselves Speak What No Words Can Utter.

Thus Is His Cheek The Map Of Days Outworn.

Obey Thy Parents, Keep Thy Word Justly; Swear Not; Commit Not With Man's Sworn Spouse; Set Not Thy Sweet Heart On Proud Array. * * * Keep Thy Foot Out Of Brothels, Thy Pen From Lenders' Books.

What Should A Man Do But Be Merry? For Look You How Cheerfully My Mother Looks, And My Father Died Within's Two Hours.

One Sees More Devils Than Vast Hell Can Hold

Some Falls The Means Are Happier To Rise.

However Wickedness Outstrips Men, It Has No Wings To Fly From God.

Time Travels In Divers Paces With Divers Persons. I'll Tell You Who Time Ambles Withal, Who Time Trots Withal, Who Time Gallops Withal, And Who He Stands Still Withal.

But Thought's The Slave Of Life, And Life Time's Fool.

Winter's Not Gone Yet, If The Wild Geese Fly That Way.

Drown Thyself? Drown Cats And Blind Puppies.

Love Thyself Last, Cherish Those Hearts That Hate Thee; Corruption Wins Not More Than Honesty.

Therefore It Is Most Expedient For The Wise, If Don Worm (his Conscience) Find No Impediment To The Contrary, To Be The Trumpet Of His Own Virtues, As I Am To Myself.

Your Date Is Better In Your Pie And Your Porridge Than In Your Cheek.

It Is Not Enough To Speak, But To Speak Truee

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

The Bashful Virgin's Sidelong Looks Of Love, The Matron's Glance That Would Those Looks Reprove.

To Climb Steep Hills Requires A Slow Pace At First.

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.

The Weakest Goes To The Wall.

Many Dream Not To Find, Neither Deserve, And Yet Are Steeped In Favors.

No Profit Grows Where No Pleasure Is Taken.

No Worse A Husband Than The Best Of Men.

A Scar Nobly Got Is A Good Livery Of Honor.

A Pal Is One That Is Aware You While You Are, Understands Where You Have Already Been, Accepts Whatever You Are Becoming, And Continue To, Carefully Means That You Can Develop.

Young Men's Love Then Lies Not Truly In Their Hearts, But In Their Eyes.

Temptation: The Fiend At My Elbow.

When You Fear A Foe, Fear Crushes Your Strength; And This Weakness Gives Strength To Your Opponents.

Words Are Grown So False, I Am Loath To Prove Reason With Them.

Love And Meekness, Lord, Become A Churchman Better Than Ambition: Win Straying Souls With Modesty Again, Cast None Away.

Hereditary Sloth Instructs Me.

You Have Too Much Respect Upon The World; They Lose It That Do Buy It With Much Care

But, Soft! What Light Through Yonder Window Breaks? It Is The East, And Juliet Is The Sun. Arise, Fair Sun, And Kill The Envious Moon, Who Is Already Sick And Pale With Grief, That Thou, Her Maid, Art Far More Fair Than She. Be Not Her Maid, Since She Is Envious; Her Vestal Livery Is But Sick And Green And None But Fools Do Wear It; Cast It Off. It Is My Lady, O, It Is My Love! Oh, That She Knew She Were!

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

Present Fears Are Less Than Horrible Imaginings.

Thy Food Is Such As Hath Been Belch'd On By Infected Lungs.

A Lover's Eyes Will Gaze An Eagle Blind.

What's The Newest Grief? Each Minute Tunes A New One.

Rich Gifts Wax Poor When Givers Prove Unkind.

Denmark In Hamlet

My Heart Suspects More Than Mine Eye Can See.

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

Men Are April When They Woo, December When They Wed. Maids Are May When They Are Maids, But The Sky Changes When They Are Wives.

Although The Last, Not Least.

And This, Our Life, Exempt From Public Haunt, Finds Tongues In Trees, Books In The Running Brooks, Sermons In Stones, And Good In Everything.

There's Not A Note Of Mine That's Worth The Noting.

Take But Degree Away, Untune That String, And Hark, What Discord Follows!

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

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

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

Plain And Not Honest Is Too Harsh A Style.

Free From Gross Passion Or Of Mirth Of Anger Constant Spirit, Not Swerving With The Blood, Garnish'd And Deck'd In Modest Compliment, Not Working With The Eye Without The Ear, And But In Purged Judgement Trusting Neither? Such And So Finely Bolted Didst Thou Seem.

Bondage Is Hoarse, And May Not Speak Aloud.

The Extreme Parts Of Time Extremely Forms All Causes To The Purpose Of His Speed.

All Men's Faces Are True, Whatsome'er Their Hands Are.

I Can Give The Loser Leave To Chide.

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