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

-William Shakespeare

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Nor Aught So Good

William Shakespeare

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

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Come Now, What Masques, What Dances Shall We Have To Wear Away This Long Age Of Three Hours Between Our After-supper And Bedtime?

Though Authority Be A Stubborn Bear, Yet He Is Oft Let By The Nose With Gold.

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

In Thy Face I See The Map Of Honour, Truth And Loyalty.

Have I Thought Long To See This Morning’s Face, And Doth It Give Me Such A Sight As This?

All That Glitters Is Not Gold; Often Have You Heard That Told: Many A Man His Life Has Sold But My Outside To Behold: Gilded Tombs Do Worms Enfold Had You Been As Wise As Bold, Your In Limbs, In Judgment Old, Your Answer Had Not Been In'scroll'd Fare You Well: Your Suit Is Cold.' Cold, Indeed, And Labour Lost: Then, Farewell, Heat And Welcome, Frost!

When A Wise Man Gives Thee Better Counsel, Give Me Mine Again.

Lady, With Me, With Me Thy Fortune Lies.

A Violet In The Youth Of Primy Nature, Forward, Not Permanent--sweet, Not Lasting; The Perfume And Suppliance Of A Minute; No More.

Hamlet And Ophelia

I Do Know When The Blood Burns, How Prodigal The Soul Lends The Tongue Vows.

Romeo: I Dreamt A Dream Tonight. Mercutio: And So Did I. Romeo: Well, What Was Yours? Mercutio: That Dreamers Often Lie. Romeo: In Bed Asleep While They Do Dream Things True.

But Now Behold, In The Quick Forge And Working-house Of Thought, How London Doth Pour Out Her Citizens!

Your Gentleness Shall Force More Than Your Force Move Us To Gentleness.

So Far Be Distant; And Good Night, Sweet Friend: Thy Love Ne'er Alter, Till They Sweet Life End

For My Part, I May Speak It To My Shame, I Have A Truant Been To Chivalry; And So I Hear He Doth Account Me Too.

Lord, What Fools These Mortals Be!

Few Love To Hear The Sins They Love To Act.

Every True Man's Apparel Fits Your Thief.

The Play's The Thing.

Fill All Thy Bones With Aches.

She Speaks Poniards, And Every Word Stabs: If Her Breath Were As Terrible As Her Terminations, There Were No Living Near Her; She Would Infect To The North Star. I Would Not Marry Her, Though She Were Endowed With All That Adam Bad Left Him Before He Transgressed.

Henceforth, I'll Bear Affliction Till It Do Cry Out Itself, 'enough, Enough, And Die.

Now I Am Past All Comforts Here, But Prayer.

Thank Me No Thankings, Nor Proud Me No Prouds.

The Very Instant I Saw You, Did My Heart Fly To Your Service; There Resides To Make Me Slave To It. ...mine Unworthiness, That Dare Not Offer What I Desire To Give, And Much Less Take What I Shall Die To Want.

Though Age From Folly Could Not Give Me Freedom, It Does From Childishness.

Weed Your Better Judgments Of All Opinion That Grows Rank In Them.

Who Can Be Wise, Amazed, Temperate And Furious, Loyal And Neutral, In A Moment? No Man.

Thou And I Are Too Wise To Woo Peaceably.

'tis Better To Bear The Ills We Have Than Fly To Others That We Know Not Of.

Hamlet And Ophelia

And He Goes Through Life, His Mouth Open, And His Mind Closed.

More Can I Bear Than You Dare Execute.

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.

If This Were Played Upon A Stage Now, I Could Condemn It As An Improbable Fiction.

No Villainous Bounty Yet Hath Passed My Heart; Unwisely, Not Ignobly, Have I Given.

Dream In Light Years, Challenge Miles, Walk Step By Step

Think'st Thou I'd Make A Life Of Jealousy, To Follow Still The Changes Of The Moon With Fresh Suspicions? No; To Be Once In Doubt Is Once To Be Resolved.

She Told Her, While She Kept It, 'twould Make Her Amiable And Subdue My Father Entirely To Her Love, But If She Lost It Or Made A Gift Of It, My Father's Eye Should Hold Her Loathed And His Spirits Should Hunt After New Fancies.

A Ministering Angel Shall My Sister Be.

Robust Grass Endures Mighty Winds; Loyal Ministers Emerge Through Ordeal.

My Language! Heavens!i Am The Best Of Them That Speak This Speech. Were I But Where 'tis Spoken.

Now The Fair Goddess, Fortune, Fall Deep In Love With Thee, And Her Great Charms Misguide Thy Opposers' Swords!

I Am That Merry Wanderer Of The Night.

Dead Poets Society

I Think Thy Horse Will Sooner Con An Oration Than Thou Learn A Prayer Without Book.

Many Strokes, Though With A Little Axe, Hew Down And Fell The Hardest-timber'd Oak.

I Am One, Sir, That Comes To Tell You Your Daughter And The Moor Are Now Making The Beast With Two Backs.(iago,acti,scenei)

I Love Thee, And It Is My Love That Speaks

Swear Me, Kate, Like A Lady As Thou Art, A Good Mouth-filling Oath.

Ay, Is It Not A Language I Speak?

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

I'll Teach You Differences.

Time Shall Unfold What Plaited Cunning Hides: Who Cover Faults, At Last Shame Them Derides.

Praise Us As We Are Tasted, Allow Us As We Prove.

My Stars Shine Darkly Over Me

Where Art Thou, Muse, That Thou Forget'st So Long / To Speak Of That Which Gives Thee All Thy Might?

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

Thou Ominous And Fearful Owl Of Death.

In Me Thou See'st The Twilight Of Such Day As After Sunset Fadeth In The West, Which By And By Black Night Doth Take Away Death's Second Self, That Seals Up All In Rest. -sonnet 73

Patch Up Thine Old Body For Heaven.

Teach Me, Dear Creature, How To Think And Speak; Lay Open To My Earthy-gross Conceit, Smother'd In Errors, Feeble, Shallow, Weak, The Folded Meaning Of Your Words' Deceit.

Love Runs Away From Those Chasing Her, And Those Who Run Away, She Throws Herself On His Neck.

The Words Of Mercury Are Harsh After The Songs Of Apollo.

I Pardon Him, As God Shall Pardon Me.

Good Old Grandsire ... We Shall Be Joyful Of Thy Company.

She Marking Them Begins A Wailing Note And Sings Extemporally A Woeful Ditty How Love Makes Young Men Thrall And Old Men Dote How Love Is Wise In Folly, Foolish-witty Her Heavy Anthem Still Concludes In Woe, And Still The Choir Of Echoes Answer So.

For This Relief Much Thanks. 'tis Bitter Cold, And I Am Sick At Heart.

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

Twelfth Night Important

Is She Kind As She Is Fair?

Love Is Begun By Time And Time Qualifies The Spark And Fire Of It.

Wedding Anniversary

Our Thoughts Are Ours, Their Ends None Of Our Own

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

If Thou Couldst, Doctor, Cast The Water Of My Land, Find Her Disease, And Purge It To A Sound And Pristine Health, I Would Applaud Thee To The Very Echo, That Should Applaud You Again.

Give Me That Man That Is Not Passion's Slave, And I Will Wear Him In My Heart's Core, In My Heart Of Heart, As I Do Thee.

Pray You Now, Forget And Forgive.

Forgive And Forget

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

Hamlet And Ophelia

What Need The Bridge Much Broader Than The Flood?

Jesters Do Oft Prove Prophets.

Farewell, Fair Cruelty.

Honest Plain Words Best Pierce The Ear Of Grief.

Trust Not Your Daughter's Minds By What You See Them Act.

We All Are Men, In Our Own Natures Frail, And Capable Of Our Flesh; Few Are Angels.

The Readiness Is All.

Inspirational Life

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

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.

Abandon All Remorse; On Horror's Head Horrors Accumulate.

O That A Lady, Of One Man Refused, Should Of Another Therefore Be Abused!

The Gallantry Of His Grief Did Put Me Into A Towering Passion.

For My Own Part, I Shall Be Glad To Learn Of Noble Men.

O No, Thy Love Though Much, Is Not So Great, It Is My Love That Keeps Mine Eye Awake, Mine Own True Love That Doth My Rest Defeat, To Play The Watchman Ever For Thy Sake. For Thee Watch I, Whilst Thou Dost Wake Elsewhere, From Me Far Off, With Others All Too Near.

I Wasted Time, And Now Doth Time Waste Me.

Farewell, Good Salisbury, And Good Luck Go With Thee!

Our Peace Shall Stand As Firm As Rocky Mountains.

Ask God For Temp'rance. That's Th' Appliance Only Which Your Disease Requires.

Sometimes We Are Devils To Ourselves When We Will Tempt The Frailty Of Our Powers, Presuming On Their Changeful Potency.

Now See That Noble And Most Sovereign Reason, Like Sweet Bells Jangled, Out Of Tune And Harsh.

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

I Am Indeed, Sir, A Surgeon To Old Shoes; When They Are In Great Danger I Recover Them.

After Life's Fitful Fever He Sleeps Well. Treason Has Done His Worst. Nor Steel Nor Poison, Malice Domestic, Foreign Levy, Nothing Can Touch Him Further.

It Is The Witness Still Of Excellency To Put A Strange Face On His Own Perfection.

What The Vengeance, Could He Not Speak 'em Fair?

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.

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

All The World's A Stage, And All The Men And Women Mearly Players.

Base Is The Slave That Pays.

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.

I Am Now Of All Humors That Have Showed Themselves Humors Since The Old Days Of Goodman Adam To The Pupil Age Of This Present Twelve O'clock At Midnight.

Full Of Wise Saws And Modern Instances.

I Have Full Cause Of Weeping, But This Heart Shall Break Into A Hundred Thousand Flaws Or Ere I'll Weep.

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

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.

Think, When We Talk Of Horses, That You See Them Printing Their Proud Hoofs I' The Receiving Earth.

Yet Who Would Have Thought The Old Man To Have Had So Much Blood In Him? - Lady Macbeth

I Dote On His Very Absence.

Those That Do Teach Young Babes Do It With Gentle Means And Easy Tasks.

Give Me Mine Angle, We'll To Th' River: There, My Music Playing Far Off, I Will Betray Tawny-finned Fishes. My Bended Hook Shall Pierce Their Slimy Jaws; And As I Draw Them Up, I'll Think Them Every One An Antony, And Say, 'ah, Ha! Are Caught!'

Talkers Are No Good Doers.

Had I But Served My God With Half The Zeal I Served My King, He Would Not In Mine Age Have Left Me Naked To Mine Enemies.

The Golden Age Is Before Us, Not Behind Us.

That We Would Do We Should Do When We Would, For This 'would' Changes, And Hath Abatements And Delays As Many As There Are Tongues, Are Hands, Are Accidents, And Then This 'should' Is Like A Spendthrift Sigh, That Hurts By Easing.

World, World, O World! But That Thy Strange Mutations Make Us Hate Thee/ Life Would Not Yield To Age.

Since Brass, Nor Stone, Nor Earth, Nor Boundless Sea, But Bad Mortality O'ersways Their Power, How With This Rage Shall Beauty Hold A Plea, Whose Action Is No Stronger Than A Flower?

Sir Andrew Ague-cheek: I'll Stay A Month Longer. I Am A Fellow O' The Strangest Mind I' The World; I Delight In Masques And Revels Sometimes Altogether (he's An Oddity In That He Enjoys Having Fun)

How Lush And Lusty The Grass Looks! How Green!

And Either Victory, Or Else A Grave.

There's An Old Saying That Applies To Me: You Can't Lose A Game If You Don't Play The Game. (act 1, Scene 4)

How Poor Are They That Have Have Not Patients.

Sin Will Pluck On Sin.

Light Boats Sail Swift, Though Greater Hulks Draw Deep.

Why Should You Think That I Should Woo In Scorn? Scorn And Derision Never Come In Tears: Look, When I Vow, I Weep; And Vows So Born, In Their Nativity All Truth Appears. How Can These Things In Me Seem Scorn To You, Bearing The Badge Of Faith, To Prove Them True?

As Merry As The Day Is Long.

The Will Is Deaf And Hears No Heedful Friends.

How Poor Are They That Have Not Patience! What Wound Did Ever Heal But By Degrees?

Nor Stony Tower, Nor Walls Of Beaten Brass, Nor Airless Dungeon, Nor Strong Links Of Iron, Can Be Retentive To The Strength Of Spirit; But Life, Being Weary Of These Worldly Bars, Never Lacks Power To Dismiss Itself.

O The World Is But A Word; Were It All Yours To Give It In A Breath, How Quickly Were It Gone!

That Which In Mean Men We Entitle Patience Is Pale Cold Cowardice In Noble Breasts.

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

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

Then To Silvia Let Us Sing That Silvia Is Excelling. She Excels Each Mortal Thing Upon The Dull Earth Dwelling.

I Almost Die For Food, And Let Me Have It!

Ships Are But Boards, Sailors But Men.

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.

Now, By The World, It Is A Lusty Wench; I Love Her Ten Times More Than E'er I Did: O, How I Long To Have Some Chat With Her!

O, Full Of Scorpions Is My Mind!

Rest You Fair, Good Signior; Your Worship Was The Last Man In Our Mouths.

Love Sees With The Heart And Not With Mind.

I Have A Bone To Pick With Fate

Who Is So Firm That Can't Be Seduced?

Great Griefs Medicine The Less.

Pleasure And Action Make The Hours Seem Short.

My Life, My Joy, My Food, My Ail The World!

A Happy Ending Cannot Come In The Middle Of The Story

Heaven Take My Soul, And England Keep My Bones!

How Now, Wit! Whither Wander You?

The Dear Father Would With His Daughter Speak, Commands Her Service; Are They Inform'd Of This?

If Ever (as That Ever May Be Near) You Meet In Some Fresh Cheek The Power Of Fancy, Then Shall You Know The Wounds Invisible That Love's Keen, Arrows Make.

When Heaven Doth Weep, Doth Not The Earth O'erflow? If The Winds Rage, Doth Not The Sea Wax Mad, Threatening The Welkin With His Big-swoln Face? And Wilt Thou Have A Reason For This Coil? I Am The Sea; Hark, How Her Sighs Do Blow! She Is The Weeping Welkin, I The Earth: Then Must My Sea Be Moved With Her Sighs; Then Must My Earth With Her Continual Tears Become A Deluge, Overflow'd And Drown'd: For Why My Bowels Cannot Hide Her Woes, But Like A Drunkard Must I Vomit Them. Then Give Me Leave, For Losers Will Have Leave To Ease Their Stomachs With Their Bitter Tongues.

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.

Let Me Not To The Marriage Of True Minds

Can We Outrun The Heavens?

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

O, My Lord, You Said That Idle Weeds Are Fast In Growth: The Prince My Brother Hath Outgrown Me Far.

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.

Things Past Redress Are Now With Me Past Care

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

Let's Teach Ourselves That Honorable Stop, Not To Outsport Discretion.

Let Him Smell His Way To Dover!

Unless Hours Were Cups Of Sack, And Minutes Capons, And Clocks The Tongues Of Bawds, And Dials The Signs Of Leaping-houses, And The Blessed Sun Himself A Fair Hot Wench In Flame-colored Taffeta, I See No Reason Why Thou Shouldst Be So Superfluous To Demand The Time Of The Day.

Neither A Borrower Nor A Lender Be.

Leave Us To Our Free Election.

Let None Presume To Wear An Undeserved Dignity. O That Estates, Degrees, And Offices Were Not Derived Corruptly, And That Clear Honour Were Purchased By The Merit Of The Wearer!

A Virtuous And A Christianlike Conclusion-- To Pray For Them That Have Done Scathe To Us.

Do Not Give Dalliance Too Much Rein; The Strongest Oaths Are Straw To The Fire In The Blood.

To-morrow, And To-morrow, And To-morrow, Creeps In This Petty Pace From Day To Day, To The Last Syllable Of Recorded Time; And All Our Yesterdays Have Lighted Fools The Way To Dusty Death. Out, Out, Brief Candle! Life's But A Walking Shadow, A Poor Player, That Struts And Frets His Hour Upon The Stage, And Then Is Heard No More. It Is A Tale Told By An Idiot, Full Of Sound And Fury, Signifying Nothing.

So May The Outward Shows Be Least Themselves; The World Is Still Deceived With Ornament.

All Is Well Ended If This Suit Be Won. That You Express Content; Which We Will Pay, With Strife To Please You, Day Exceeding Day.

Let No Such Man Be Trusted.

The Love Of Heaven Makes One Heavenly.

I Am Never Merry When I Hear Sweet Music.

If Wishes Would Prevail With Me, My Purpose Should Not Fail With Me.

The Proverb Is Something Musty.

Had I But Died An Hour Before This Chance, I Had Liv'd A Blessed Time; For, From This Instant, There's Nothing Serious In Mortality: All Is But Toys; Renown, And Grace Is Dead; The Wine Of Life Is Drawn, And The Mere Lees Is Left This Vault To Brag Of.

Costly Thy Habit [dress] As Thy Purse Can Buy; But Not Expressed In Fancy - Rich, Not Gaudy. For The Apparel Oft Proclaims The Man.

Lovers And Madmen Have Such Seething Brains Such Shaping Fantasies, That Apprehend More Than Cool Reason Ever Comprehends.

Music Can Minister To Minds Diseased, Pluck From The Memory A Rooted Sorrow, Raze Out The Written Troubles Of The Brain, And With Its Sweet Oblivious Antidote, Cleanse The Full Bosom Of All Perilous Stuff That Weighs Upon The Heart.

Sigh No More Ladies, Sigh No More, Men Were Deceivers Ever

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

To Stand Against The Deep Dread-bolted Thunder, In The Most Terrible And Nimble Stroke Of Quick, Cross Lightning.

I'll Give My Jewels For A Set Of Beads, My Gorgeous Palace For A Hermitage, My Gay Apparel For An Almsman's Gown, My Figured Goblets For A Dish Of Wood, My Scepter For A Palmer's Walking Staff My Subjects For A Pair Of Carved Saints And My Large Kingdom For A Little Grave.

Jesu, Jesu, The Mad Days That I Have Spent! And To See How Many Of My Old Acquaintance Are Dead!

No, No, No, No! Come, Let's Away To Prison: We Two Alone Will Sing Like Birds I' The Cage: When Thou Dost Ask Me Blessing, I'll Kneel Down, And Ask Of Thee Forgiveness: So We'll Live, And Pray, And Sing, And Tell Old Tales, And Laugh At Gilded Butterflies, And Hear Poor Rogues Talk Of Court News; And We'll Talk With Them Too, Who Loses And Who Wins; Who's In, Who's Out; And Take Upon's The Mystery Of Things, As If We Were God's Spies: And We'll Wear Out, In A Wall'd Prison, Packs And Sects Of Great Ones, That Ebb And Flow By The Moon.

A Man May Fish With The Worm That Hath Eat Of A King, And Eat Of The Fish That Hath Fed Of That Worm

O, Reason Not The Need!

Mean And Mighty, Rotting Together, Have One Dust.

Affection Is A Coal That Must Be Cooled; Else, Suffered, It Will Set The Heart On Fire.

A Little Fire Is Quickly Trodden Out, Which, Being Suffer'd, Rivers Cannot Quench.

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

Then Come Kiss Me, Sweet And Twenty.

Affection Faints Not Like A Pale-faced Coward, But Then Woos Best When Most His Choice Is Froward.

Your Cause Of Sorrow Must Not Be Measured By His Worth, For Then It Hath No End.

In Law, What Plea So Tainted And Corrupts, But Being Seasoned With A Gracious Voice Obscures The Show Of Evil.

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