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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.

-William Shakespeare

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O Mistress Mine, Where

William Shakespeare

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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.

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

I Am Sir Oracle, And When I Ope My Lips, Let No Dog Bark.

I Am Sure Care's An Enemy To Life.

For Naught So Vile That On The Earth Doth Live But To The Earth Some Special Good Doth Give.

I Am That Merry Wanderer Of The Night.

Dead Poets Society

Nay, Had I Pow'r, I Should Pour The Sweet Milk Of Concord Into Hell, Uproar The Universal Peace, Confound All Unity On Earth.

Make Passionate My Sense Of Hearing.

When Clouds Are Seen Wise Men Put On Their Cloaks; When Great Leaves Fall Then Winter Is At Hand.

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

Never Durst Poet Touch A Pen To Write Until His Ink Were Temper'd With Love's Sighs.

I Never See Thy Face But I Think Upon Hell-fire.

Good Counselors Lack No Clients.

Many Can Brook The Weather That Love Not The Wind.

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.

Reputation, Reputation, Reputation! O, I Ha' Lost My Reputation, I Ha' Lost The Immortal Part Of Myself, And What Remains Is Bestial!

Withal I Did Infer Your Lineaments, Being The Right Idea Of Your Father, Both In Your Form And Nobleness Of Mind; Laid Open All Your Victories In Scotland, Your Discipline In War, Wisdom In Peace, Your Bounty, Virtue, Fair Humility; Indeed, Left Nothing Fitting For Your Purpose Untouch'd Or Slightly Handled In Discourse.

Crowns In My Purse I Have, And Goods At Home, And So Am Come Abroad To See The World.

Come, Let's Have One Other Gaudy Night. Call To Me All My Sad Captains. Fill Our Bowls Once More. Let's Mock The Midnight Bell.

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

Women Being The Weaker Vessels, Are Ever Thrust To The Walls.

Memory, The Warder Of The Brain.

Tis Mad Idolatry To Make The Service Greater Than The God.

He That Plays The King Shall Be Welcome- His Majesty Shall Have Tribute Of Me; The Adventurous Knight Shall Use His Foil And Target; The Lover Shall Not Sigh Gratis; The Humorous Man Shall End His Part In Peace; The Clown Shall Make Those Laugh Whose Lungs Are Tickle O' Th' Sere; And The Lady Shall Say Her Mind Freely, Or The Blank Verse Shall Halt Fort.

There's Daggers In Men's Smiles.

O, Wonder! How Many Goodly Creatures Are There Here! How Beauteous Mankind Is! O Brave New World, That Has Such People In't!

Brave New World

Unhappy That I Am, I Cannot Heave My Heart Into My Mouth.

Put Money In Thy Purse.

Some Are Born Great, Some Achieve Greatness, And Some Have Greatness Thrust Upon Them.

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

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

Sin Will Pluck On Sin.

Twas Never Merry World Since Lowly Feigning Was Called Compliment.

Madam, You Have Bereft Me Of All Words, Only My Blood Speaks To You In My Veins.

Forever, And Forever, Farewell, Cassius! If We Do Meet Again, Why, We Shall Smile; If Not, Why Then This Parting Was Well Made.

As Merry As The Day Is Long.

The Apprehension Of The Good Gives But The Greater Feeling To The Worse.

I Dreamt My Lady Came And Found Me Dead . . . . . . . . . . . . And Breathed Such Life With Kisses In My Lips That I Revived And Was An Emperor.

What Made Me Love Thee? Let That Persuade Thee, There's Something Extraordinary In Thee

But Since The Affairs Of Men Rests Still Incertain, Let's Reason With The Worst That May Befall.

This Fell Sergeant, Death, Is Strict In His Arrest.

Woe, Destruction, Ruin, And Decay; The Worst Is Death And Death Will Have His Day.

The King Hath Note Of All That They Intend, By Interception Which They Dream Not Of.

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

Good Night, Good Night! Parting Is Such Sweet Sorrow, That I Shall Say Good Night Till It Be Morrow.

Nothing In His Life Became Him Like Leaving It.

He Is Not Worthy Of The Honey-comb, That Shuns The Hives Because The Bees Have Stings.

When We Mean To Build, We First Survey The Plot, Then Draw The Model; And When We See The Figure Of The House, Then Must We Rate The Cost Of The Erection.

By Heaven, My Soul Is Purg'd From Grudging Hate; And With My Hand I Seal My True Heart's Love

My Stars Shine Darkly Over Me

All The World Is A Stage And We Are Merely Players.

He That Will Have A Cake Out Of The Wheat Must Tarry The Grinding. Have I Not Tarried? Ay, The Grinding; But You Must Tarry The Bolting. Have I Not Tarried? Ay, The Bolting; But You Must Tarry The Leavening. Still Have I Tarried. Ay, To The Leavening; But Here's Yet In The Word 'hereafter' The Kneading, The Making Of The Cake, The Heating Of The Oven, And The Baking; Nay, You Must Stay The Cooling Too, Or You May Chance To Burn Your Lips.

Well, I'll Repent, And That Suddenly, While I Am In Some Liking; I Shall Be Out Of Heart Shortly, And Then I Shall Have No Strength To Repent.

Now, My Co-mates And Brothers In Exile, Hath Not Old Custom Made This Life More Sweet Than That Of Painted Pomp? Are Not These Woods More Free From Peril Than The Envious Court?

You Have Witchcraft In Your Lips, There Is More Eloquence In A Sugar Touch Of Them Than In The Tongues Of The French Council; And They Should Sooner Persuade Harry Of England Than A General Petition Of Monarchs.

For This Relief, Much Thanks

How Sometimes Nature Will Betray Its Folly, Its Tenderness, And Make Itself A Pastime To Harder Bosoms!

How Easy It Is For The Proper-false In Woman's Waxen Hearts To Set Their Forms!

I Say, Without Characters, Fame Lives Long.

So Many Horrid Ghosts.

Lend Less Than You Owe.

Having My Freedom, Boast Of Nothing Else.

O Jest Unseen, Inscrutable, Invisible, As A Nose On A Man's Face, Or A Weathercock On A Steeple.

While We Lie Tumbling In The Hay.

And Caesar Shall Go Forth.

They That Touch Pitch Will Be Defiled.

Dispute Not With Her: She Is Lunatic.

If People Knew How Much I Hated Them, They'd Love Me For Holding It In.

The Band That Seems To Tie Their Friendship Together Will Be The Very Strangler Of Their Amity.

Faults That Are Rich Are Fair.

I Was A Coward On Instinct.

Be Not Afeard; The Isle Is Full Of Noises.

Liberty Plucks Justice By The Nose; The Baby Beats The Nurse, And Quite Athwart Goes All Decorum.

O Good Old Man, How Well In Thee Appears The Constant Service Of The Antique World, When Service Sweat For Duty, Not For Meed! Thou Art Not For The Fashion Of These Times, Where None Will Sweat But For Promotion, And Having That Do Choke Their Service Up Even With The Having. . . .

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

Flesh And Blood, You, Brother Mine, That Entertain'd Ambition, Expell'd Remorse And Nature, Who, With Sebastian- Whose Inward Pinches Therefore Are Most Strong- Would Here Have Kill'd Your King, I Do Forgive Thee, Unnatural Though Thou Art.

I Shall Show The Cinders Of My Spirits Through The Ashes Of My Chance.

Do As The Heavens Have Done, Forget Your Evil; With Them Forgive Yourself.

A Table Full Of Welcome Makes Scarce One Dainty Dish.

My Conscience Hath A Thousand Several Tongues, And Every Tongue Brings In A Several Tale, And Every Tale Condemns Me For A Villain. Perjury, Perjury, In The High'st Degree; Murder, Stern Murder In The Dir'st Degree, Throng To The Bar, Crying All, 'guilty!, Guilty!

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

I Shall The Effect Of This Good Lesson Keeps As Watchman To My Heart.

Hamlet And Ophelia

Dead Shepherd, Now I Find Thy Saw Of Might. Whoever Lov'd That Lov'd Not At First Sight.

Let Us Not Burden Our Remembrances With A Heaviness That's Gone.

Romeo There Is Thy Gold, Worse Poison To Men's Souls, Doing More Murders In This Loathsome World, Than These Poor Compounds That Thou Mayst Not Sell. I Sell Thee Poison; Thou Hast Sold Me None. Farewell: Buy Food, And Get Thyself In Flesh. Come, Cordial And Not Poison, Go With Me To Juliet's Grave; For There Must I Use Thee.

It Was Always Yet The Trick Of Our English Nation, If They Have A Good Thing, To Make It Too Common.

Who Buys A Minute's Mirth To Wail A Week? Or Sell Eternity To Get A Toy? For One Grape Who Will The Vine Destroy?

Laughing Faces Do Not Mean That There Is Absence Of Sorrow! But It Means That They Have The Ability To Deal With It

I Wonder That You Will Still Be Talking. Nobody Marks You.

So Loving To My Mother, That He Might Not Beteem The Winds Of Heaven, Visit Her Face' Too Roughly.

And What Art Thou, Thou Idol Ceremony? What Kind Of God Art Thou, That Suffer'st More Of Mortal Griefs Than Do Thy Worshippers?

If Money Go Before, All Ways Do Lie Open.

Determine On Some Course More Than A Wild Exposure To Each Chance.

And Flights Of Angels Sing Thee To Thy Rest!

Present Fears Are Less Than Horrible Imaginings.

Cordelia! Stay A Little. Ha! What Is't Thou Say'st? Her Voice Was Ever Soft.

There's Many A Man Hath More Hair Than Wit.

Suspicion Always Haunts The Guilty Mind.

The Heavens Forbid But That Our Loves And Comforts Should Increase Even As Our Days Do Grow!

Youth Is Full Of 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, And Age Is Tame.

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

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

See First That The Design Is Wise And Just: That Ascertained, Pursue It Resolutely; Do Not For One Repulse Forego The Purpose That You Resolved To Effect.

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.

We Will All Laugh At Gilded Butterflies.

Shall We Upon The Footing Of Our Land Send Fair-play Orders, And Make Compromise, Insinuation, Parley, And Base Truce, To Arms Invasive?

Love Reasons Without Reason.

And Too Soon Marred Are Those So Early Made.

Bondage Is Hoarse, And May Not Speak Aloud.

Now Is The Winter Of Our Discontent.

Merchant Of Venice

As Full Of Spirit As The Month Of May, And As Gorgeous As The Sun In Midsummer.

Thus We Play The Fool With The Time And The Spirits Of The Wise Sit In The Clouds And Mock Us.

Thou Art As Wise As Thou Art Beautiful

Fair Ladies, Masked, Are Roses In Their Bud; Dismasked, The Damask Sweet Commixture Shown, Are Angels Vailing Clouds, Or Roses Blown.

All Gold And Silver Rather Turn To Dirt, An 'tis No Better Reckoned But Of These Who Worship Dirty Gods.

As Flies To Wanton Boys, Are We To The Gods; They Kill Us For Their Sport.

Let Me Be That I Am And Seek Not To Alter Me.

Men At Some Time Are Masters Of Their Fates.

I Had Rather Hear My Dog Bark At A Crow, Than A Man Swear He Loves Me.

I Will Speak Daggers To Her, But Use None.

Hamlet And Ophelia

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

Old Fashions Please Me Best; I Am Not So Nice To Change True Rules For Odd Inventions.

How Low Am I, Thou Painted Maypole?

Of All Complexions The Culled Sovereignty Do Meet, As At A Fair, In Her Fair Cheek, Where Several Worthies Make One Dignity, Where Nothing Wants That Want Itself Doth Seek.

There Is Flattery In Friendship.

Come, Seeling Night, Scarf Up The Tender Eye Of Pitiful Day, And With Thy Bloody And Invisible Hand Cancel And Tear To Pieces That Great Bond Which Keeps Me Pale. Light Thickens, And The Crow Makes Wing To Th' Rooky Wood. Good Things Of Day Begin To Droop And Drowse, While Night's Black Agents To Their Prey Do Rouse.

What, With My Tongue In Your Tail? Nay, Come Again, Good Kate; I Am A Gentleman.

But We Have Reason To Cool Our Raging Motions, Our Carnal Stings, Our Unbitted Lusts; Whereof I Take This That You Call Love To Bea Sect Or Scion.... It Is Merely A Lust Of The Blood And A Permission Of The Will.

For She Had Eyes And Chose Me.

Love And Jealousy

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?

They That Have Voice Of Lions And Act Of Hares,--are They Not Monsters?

Will You Walk Out Of The Air, My Lord? Hamlet Into My Grave.

Mechanic Slaves With Greasy Aprons, Rules, And Hammers, Shall Uplift Us To The View.

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

He Thinks Too Much. Such Men Are Dangerous.

Gnawing With My Teeth My Bonds In Sunder, I Gain'd My Freedom.

Faith, I Have Been A Truant In The Law And Never Yet Could Frame My Will To It, And Therefore Frame The Law Unto My Will.

You Speak An Infinite Deal Of Nothing.

Oh Why Rebuke You Him That Loves You So? / Lay Breath So Bitter On Your Bitter Foe.

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?

The Readiness Is All.

Inspirational Life

Venus Smiles Not In A House Of Tears.

O, While You Live, Tell Truth, And Shame The Devil!

So Get The Start Of The Majestic World And Bear The Palm Alone.

Pleasure And Action Make The Hours Seem Short.

The Chameleon Love Can Feed On The Air

If She Be Not Honest, Chaste, And True, There's No Man Happy.

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.

This Blessed Plot, This Earth, This Realm, This England.

Precious Stones

Paradise On Earth

I Have Thrust Myself Into This Maze, Haply To Wive And Thrive As Best I May.

Take It In What Sense Thou Wilt.

Romeo And Juliet Play

An Overflow Of Good Converts To Bad.

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

But The Strong Base And Building Of My Love Is As The Very Centre Of The Earth, Drawing All Things To It.

If There Were A Sympathy In Choice, War, Death, Or Sickness, Did Lay Siege To It, Making It Momentary As A Sound, Swift As A Shadow, Short As Any Dream, Brief As The Lightning In The Collied Night That, In A Spleen, Unfolds Both Heaven And Earth, And Ere A Man Hath Power To Say 'behold!' The Jaws Of Darkness Do Devour It Up; So Quick Bright Things Come To Confusion.

Equality Of Two Domestic Powers Breeds Scrupulous Faction.

We Go To Gain A Little Patch Of Ground That Hath In It No Profit But The Name.

That, Sir, Which Serves And Seeks For Gain, And Follows But For Form, Will Pack, When It Begins To Rain, And Leave Thee In A Storm.

By That Sin Fell The Angels.

Love Like A Shadow Flies When Substance Love Pursues Pursuing That That Flies, And Flying What Pursues.

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!'

If You Be King, Why Should Not I Succeed?

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.

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.

The Pleasing Punishment That Women Bear.

He That Loves To Be Flattered Is Worthy O' The Flatterer.

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.

Thy Best Of Rest Is Sleep, And That Thou Oft Provok'st; Yet Grossly Fear'st Thy Death, Which Is No More.

A True Repentance Shuns The Evil Itself, More Than The External Suffering Or The Shame.

But Love Is Blind And Lovers Cannot See

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

Fruits That Blossom First Will First Be Ripe.

Such Is My Love, To Thee I So Belong, That For Thy Right Myself Will Bear All Wrong.

Well, Whiles I Am A Beggar, I Will Rail, And Say There Is No Sin But To Be Rich; And Being Rich, My Virtue Then Shall Be To Say There Is No Vice But Beggary

All Is Well Ended, If The Suit Be Won.

Well, Heaven Forgive Him! And Forgive Us All! Some Rise By Sin, And Some By Virtue Fall: Some Run From Brakes Of Ice, And Answer None: And Some Condemned For A Fault Alone.

Tell Them, That, To Ease Them Of Their Griefs, Their Fear Of Hostile Strokes, Their Aches, Losses, Their Pangs Of Love, With Other Incident Throes That Nature's Fragile Vessel Doth Sustain In Life's Uncertain Voyage, I Will Some Kindness Do Them.

Being Your Slave What Should I Do But Tend, Upon The Hours, And Times Of Your Desire? I Have No Precious Time At All To Spend; Nor Services To Do Till You Require.

The Mightier Man, The Mightier Is The Thing That Makes Him Honored Or Begets Him Hate; For Greatest Scandal Waits On Greatest State.

Let Me Twine Mine Arms About That Body, Where Against My Grained Ash An Hundred Times Hath Broke And Scarr'd The Moon With Splinters: Here I Clip The Anvil Of My Sword, And Do Contest As Hotly And As Nobly With Thy Love As Ever In Ambitious Strength I Did Contend Against Thy Valour. Know Thou First, I Loved The Maid I Married; Never Man Sigh'd Truer Breath; But That I See Thee Here, Thou Noble Thing! More Dances My Rapt Heart Than When I First My Wedded Mistress Saw Bestride My Threshold.

O Me, You Juggler, You Canker-blossom, You Thief Of Love!

Come Not Within The Measure Of My Wrath.

There Is No Terror, Cassius, In Your Threats, For I Am Armed So Strong In Honesty That They Pass By Me As The Idle Wind

What Soilders Whey-face? The English For So Please You. Take Thy Face Hence.

And When I Am Forgotten, As I Shall Be, And Asleep In Dull Cold Marble, Where No Mention Of Me Must Be Heard Of, Say, I Taught Thee.

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

Two Stars Keep Not Their Motion In One Sphere.

The Seasons Change Their Manners, As The Year Had Found Some Months Asleep And Leapt Them Over.

For The Poor Wren (the Most Diminutive Of Birds) Will Fight, Her Young Ones In Her Nest, Against The Owl.

True Hope Is Swift, And Flies With Swallow's Wings.

Sweet Love! Sweet Lines! Sweet Life! Here Is Her Hand, The Agent Of Her Heart; Here Is Her Oath For Love, Her Honour's Pawn

Farewell, A Long Farewell To All My Greatness! This Is The State Of Man: Today He Puts Forth The Tender Leaves Of Hope, Tomorrow Blossoms, And Bears His Blushing Honours Thick Upon Him: The Third Day Comes A Frost, A Killing Frost, And - When He Thinks, Good Easy Man, Full Surely His Greatness Is A-ripening - Nips His Root, And Then He Falls, As I Do.

Headstrong Liberty Is Lashed With Woe.

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

Good With Out Evil Is Like Light With Out Darkness Which In Turn Is Like Righteousness Whith Out Hope.

Words, Vows, Gifts, Tears, And Love's Full Sacrifice, He Offers In Another's Enterprise; But More In Troilus Thousand-fold I See Than In The Glass Of Pandar's Praise May Be, Yet Hold I Off.

A Kind Of Excellent Dumb Discourse.

Now, Good Digestion Wait On Appetite, And Health On Both!

Fight, Gentlemen Of England! Fight, Bold Yeomen! Draw, Archers, Draw Your Arrows To The Head! Spur Your Proud Horses Hard, And Ride In Blood; Amaze The Welkin With Your Broken Staves!

I Love Thee, And It Is My Love That Speaks

Is This A Dagger Which I See Before Me, The Handle Toward My Hand? Come, Let Me Clutch Thee. I Have Thee Not, And Yet I See Thee Still. Art Thou Not, Fatal Vision, Sensible To Feeling As To Sight? Or Art Thou But A Dagger Of The Mind, A False Creation, Proceeding From The Heat-oppressed Brain?

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