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Orpheus With His Lute Made Trees, And The Mountain Tops That Freeze, Bow Themselves, When He Did Sing; To His Music, Plants And Flowers Ever Sprung; As Sun And Showers There Had Made A Lasting Spring. Every Thing That Heard Him Play, Even The Billows Of The Sea, Hung Their Heads, And Then Lay By. In Sweet Music Is Such Art, Killing Care And Grief Of Heart Fall Asleep, Or Hearing, Die.

-William Shakespeare

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Orpheus With His Lute

William Shakespeare

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Orpheus With His Lute Made Trees, And The Mountain Tops That Freeze, Bow Themselves, When He Did Sing; To His Music, Plants And Flowers Ever Sprung; As Sun And Showers There Had Made A Lasting Spring. Every Thing That Heard Him Play, Even The Billows Of The Sea, Hung Their Heads, And Then Lay By. In Sweet Music Is Such Art, Killing Care And Grief Of Heart Fall Asleep, Or Hearing, Die.

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Short Summers Lightly Have A Forward Spring.

Men Shut Their Doors Against A Setting Sun.

One Good Deed Dying Tongueless Slaughters A Thousand Waiting Upon That. Our Praises Are Our Wages.

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If Love Be Blind, It Best Agrees With Night

But Here's The Joy: My Friend And I Are One, Sweet Flattery!

How Sharper Than A Serpent's Tooth It Is To Have A Thankless Child!

There's A Time For All Things.

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

Let Me Not To The Marriage Of True Minds

I Thought My Heart Had Been Wounded With The Claws Of A Lion.

I Will Be Correspondent To Command, And Do My Spiriting Gently.

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

Our Wills And Fates Do So Contrary Run.

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Nothing Routs Us But The Villainy Of Our Fears.

Not An Angel Of The Air, Bird Melodious Or Bird Fair, Be Absent Hence!

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.

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

Fall Greeks; Fail Fame; Honour Or Go Or Stay; My Major Vow Lies Here, This I'll Obey.

The Private Wound Is Deepest. O Time Most Accurst, 'mongst All Foes That A Friend Should Be The Worst!

You Cram These Words Into Mine Ears Against The Stomach Of My Sense.

When A Man's Verses Cannot Be Understood, Nor A Man's Good Wit Seconded With The Forward Child Understanding, It Strikes A Man More Dead Than A Great Reckoning In A Little Room. Truly, I Would The Gods Had Made Thee Poetical.

My Love Is Thine To Teach; Teach It But How, And Thou Shalt See How Apt It Is To Learn. Any Hard Lesson That May Do Thee Good.

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.

The Hideous God Of War.

The Ostentation Of Our Love, Which, Left Unshown, Is Often Left Unloved.

Foul Whisperings Are Abroad

He Hath Eaten Me Out Of House And Home.

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

Some Falls The Means Are Happier To Rise.

Keep Thy Friend Under Thy Own Life's Key.

Be Wary Then; Best Safety Lies In Fear.

Tell Me, Daughter Juliet, How Stands Your Dispositions To Be Married" It Is An Honor That I Dream Not Of

A Plague Of Sighing And Grief! It Blows A Man Up Like A Bladder.

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

The Tempter Or The Tempted, Who Sins Most?

Measure For Measure

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

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.

With These Shreds They Vented Their Complainings, Which Being Answered And A Petition Granted Them, A Strange One, To Break The Heart Of Generosity, And Make Bold Power Look Pale, They Threw Their Caps As They Would Hang Them On The Horns O' Th' Moon, Shouting Their Emulation.

How Use Doth Breed A Habit In A Man.

Do Not Banish Reason For Inequality; But Let Your Reason Serve To Make The Truth Appear Where It Seems Hid, And Hide The False Seems True.

Here's That Which Is Too Weak To Be A Sinner, Honest Water, Which Ne'er Left Man I' The Mire.

Beggar That I Am, I Am Even Poor In Thanks

So Many Miseries Have Craz'd My Voice, That My Woe-wearied Tongue Is Still And Mute.

Pardon's The Word To All.

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.

Can It Be Chat Modesty May More Betray Our Sense Than Woman's Lightness?

Rumour Is A Pipe Blown By Surmises, Jealousies, Conjectures And Of So Easy And So Plain A Stop That The Blunt Monster With Uncounted Heads, The Still-discordant Wavering Multitude, Can Play Upon It.

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.

Well, God Give Them Wisdom That Have It; And Those That Are Fools, Let Them Use Their Talents.

Like One Who Draws The Model Of A House Beyond His Power To Build It Who, Half Through, Gives O'er, And Leaves His Part-created Cost A Naked Subject To The Weeping Clouds.

Mind Your Speech A Little Lest You Should Mar Your Fortunes.

This Rudeness Is A Sauce To His Good Wit, Which Gives Men Stomach To Digest His Words With Better Appetite.

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

My Crown Is Called Content, A Crown That Seldom Kings Enjoy.

For To Be Wise And Love Exceeds Man's Might.

How Well He's Read, To Reason Against Reading!

For God's Sake, Let Us Sit Upon The Ground And Tell Sad Stories Of The Death Of Kings.

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. And Truly Not The Morning Sun Of Heaven Better Becomes The Grey Cheeks Of The East, Nor That Full Star That Ushers In The Even, Doth Half That Glory To The Sober West, As Those Two Mourning Eyes Become Thy Face: O! Let It Then As Well Beseem Thy Heart To Mourn For Me Since Mourning Doth Thee Grace, And Suit Thy Pity Like In Every Part. Then Will I Swear Beauty Herself Is Black, And All They Foul That Thy Complexion Lack

Honest Plain Words Best Pierce The Ear Of Grief.

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

Things Are Often Spoke And Seldom Meant.

Winter, Which, Being Full Of Care, Makes Summer's Welcome Thrice More Wish'd, More Rare.

Is There No Pity Sitting In The Clouds That Sees Into The Bottom Of My Grief? O Sweet My Mother, Cast Me Not Away! Delay This Marriage For A Month, A Week, Or If You Do Not, Make The Bridal Bed In That Dim Monument Where Tybalt Lies.

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Thus Conscience Does Make Cowards Of Us All; And Thus The Native Hue Of Resolution Is Slicked O'er With The Pale Cast Of Thought

Women May Fall When There's No Strength In Men.

Finish, Good Lady; The Bright Day Is Done, And We Are For The Dark.

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.

I Am That Merry Wanderer Of The Night.

Dead Poets Society

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

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

Tis A Cruelty To Load A Fallen Man.

One Pain Is Lessened By Another's Anguish.

I Prithee Gentle Friend, Let Thy Fair Wisdom, Not Thy Passions, Sway In This Uncivil And Unjust Extent Against Thy Peace.

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.

Lady, With Me, With Me Thy Fortune Lies.

There's Rosemary And Rue. These Keep Seeming And Savor All The Winter Long. Grace And Remembrance Be To You.

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.

The Undeserver May Sleep When The Man Of Action Is Called On.

As A Decrepit Father Takes Delight To See His Active Child Do Deeds Of Youth, So I, Made Lame By Fortune's Dearest Spite, Take All My Comfort Of Thy Worth And Truth.

Thou Seest We Are Not All Alone Unhappy: This Wide And Universal Theatre Presents More Woeful Pageants Than The Scene Wherein We Play In.

Well, Honor Is The Subject Of My Story.

They Are In The Very Wrath Of Love, And They Will Go Together. Clubs Cannot Part Them

In Time The Savage Bull Doth Bear The Yoke.

Say, What Abridgement Have You For This Evening? What Masque, What Music? How Shall We Beguile The Lazy Time If Not With Some Delight?

Let Still Woman Take An Elder Than Herself: So Wears She To Him, So Sways She Level In Her Husband's Heart, For, Boy, However We Do Praise Ourselves, Our Fancies Are More Giddy And Unfirm, More Longing, Wavering, Sooner To Be Lost And Warn, Than Women's Are.

Adversity Makes Strange Bedfellows.

Strange Bedfellows

Teeth Hadst Thou In Thy Head When Thou Wast Born, To Signify Thou Camest To Bite The World.

In Love The Heavens Themselves Do Guide The State; Money Buys Lands, And Wives Are Sold By Fate.

Let Witchcraft Join With Beauty, Lust With Both!

They Have Been Grand-jurymen Since Before Noah Was A Sailor

Be As Just And Gracious Unto Me, As I Am Confident And Kind To Thee.

A Happy Ending Cannot Come In The Middle Of The Story

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.

Tempt Not A Desperate Man

Well, In That Hit You Miss. She'll Not Be Hit With Cupid's Arrow. She Hath Dian's Wit, And, In Strong Proff Of Chastity Well Armed, From Love's Weak Childish Bow She Lives Uncharmed. She Will Not Stay The Siege Of Loving Terms, Nor Bide Th' Encounter Of Assailing Eyes, Nor Ope Her Lap To Saint-seducing Gold. O, She Is Rich In Beauty; Only Poor That, When She Dies, With Dies Her Store. Act 1,scene 1, Lines 180-197

After Your Death You Were Better Have A Bad Epitaph Than Their Ill Report While You Live.

I May Neither Choose Who I Would, Nor Refuse Who I Dislike; So Is The Will Of A Living Daughter Curbed By The Will Of A Dead Father.

Methinks I Am A Prophet New Inspired And Thus, Expiring, Do Foretell Of Him: His Rash Fierce Blaze Of Riot Cannot Last, For Violent Fires Soon Burn Out Themselves; Small Show'rs Last Long, But Sudden Storms Are Short; He Tires Betimes That Spurs Too Fast Betimes; With Eager Feeding Doth Choke The Feeder; Light Vanity, Insatiate Cormorant, Consuming Means, Soon Preys Upon Itself.

Alas, How Love Can Trifle With Itself!

Wise Men Never Sit And Wail Their Loss, But Cheerily Seek How To Redress Their Harms.

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

O! She Doth Teach The Torches To Burn Bright It Seems She Hangs Upon The Cheek Of Night Like A Rich Jewel In An Ethiop's Ear; Beauty Too Rich For Use, For Earth Too Dear. - Romeo -

A Scar Nobly Got Is A Good Livery Of Honor.

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

Time Be Thine, And Thy Best Graces Spend It At Thy Will.

Hereditary Sloth Instructs Me.

Most Dangerous Is That Temptation That Doth Goad Us On To Sin In Loving Virtue.

Headstrong Liberty Is Lashed With Woe.

O, Reason Not The Need!

One Fairer Than My Love? The All-seeing Sun Ne'er Saw Her Match Since First The World Begun.

Romeo And Juliet Love

I Am Not Only Witty In Myself, But The Cause That Wit Is In Other Men.

She Is A Woman, Therefore To Be Won.

They Have A Plentiful Lack Of Wit.

Where Shall We Three Meet Again In Thunder, Lightning, Or In Rain? When The Hurlyburly 's Done, When The Battle 's Lost And Won

I'll Go Find A Shadow, And Sigh Till He Come" (phebe)

Study Is Like The Heaven's Glorious Sun, That Will Not Be Deep-searched With Saucy Looks: Small Have Continual Plodders Ever Won, Save Base Authority From Others' Books.

O Madam, My Old Heart Is Cracked, It's Cracked!

Is Love A Tender Thing? It Is Too Rough, Too Rude, Too Boisterous, And It Pricks Like Thorn.

We Must Love Men, Ere To Us They Will Seem Worthy Of Our Love.

Not Stepping Over The Bounds Of Modesty.

The Venom Clamours Of A Jealous Woman Poison More Deadly Than A Mad Dog's Tooth.

Muster Your Wits; Stand In Your Own Defence.

Time ... Thou Ceaseless Lackey To Eternity.

Commit The Oldest Sins The Newest Kind Of Ways.

And Flights Of Angels Sing Thee To Thy Rest!

Cursed Be The Hand That Made These Fatal Holes.

The Moon's An Arrant Thief, And Her Pale Fire She Snatches From The Sun.

When Devils Will The Blackest Sins Put On They Do Suggest At First With Heavenly Shows

Live In Thy Shame, But Die Not Shame With Thee!

The Clock Upbraids Me With The Waste Of Time.

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 Have Set My Life Upon A Cast, And I Will Stand The Hazard Of The Die.

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

You Are Strangely Troublesome.

This England Never Did, Nor Never Shall, Lie At The Proud Foot Of A Conqueror, But When It First Did Help To Wound Itself. Now These Her Princes Are Come Home Again, Come The Three Corners Of The World In Arms, And We Shall Shock Them. Nought Shall Make Us Rue, If England To Itself Do Rest But True.

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.

A Book? O, Rare One, Be Not, As Is Our Fangled World, A Garment Nobler Than That It Covers.

He Must Needs Go That The Devil Drives.

Time Goes On Crutches Till Love Have All His Rites.

The Third Day Comes A Frost, A Killing Frost.

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

Then Others For Breath Of Words Respect, Me For My Dumb Thoughts, Speaking In Effect.

When Truth Kills Truth, O Devilish Holy Fray!

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

Twelfth Night Important

What: Is The Jay More Precious Than The Lark Because His Feathers Are More Beautiful?

Absence From Those We Love Is Self From Self - A Deadly Banishment.

My Love Is Thaw'd; Which, Like A Waxen Image 'gainst A Fire, Bears No Impression Of The Thing It Was

Alas, I Am A Woman Friendless, Hopeless!

Society Is No Comfort, To One Not Sociable.

Wisely Weigh Our Sorrow With Our Comfort.

A Jest's Prosperity Lies In The Ear Of Him That Hears It, Never In The Tongue Of Him That Makes It.

O, How I Faint When I Of You Do Write, Knowing A Better Spirit Doth Use Your Name, And In The Praise Thereof Spends All His Might To Make Me Tongue-tied Speaking Of Your Fame.

Is Man No More Than This? Consider Him Well. Thou Ow'st The Worm No Silk, The Beast No Hide, The Sheep No Wool, The Cat No Perfume. Here's Three On's Are Sophisticated. Thou Art The Thing Itself; Unaccommodated Man Is No More Than Such A Poor, Bare, Forked Animal As Thou Art.

If You Love An Addle Egg As Well As You Love An Idle Head, You Would Eat Chickens I' Th' Shell.

If All The Year Were Playing Holidays; To Sport Would Be As Tedious As To Work.

But She Makes Hungry Where She Most Satisfies.

Beauty Lives With Kindness.

Sweet Are The Uses Of Adversity Which, Like The Toad, Ugly And Venomous, Wears Yet A Precious Jewel In His Head.

I Am The Prince Of Wales; And Think Not, Percy, To Share With Me In Glory Any More: Two Stars Keep Not Their Motion In One Sphere.

Care Keeps His Watch In Every Old Man’s Eye, And Where Care Lodges, Sleep Will Never Lie.

And Therefore, — Since I Cannot Prove A Lover, To Entertain These Fair Well-spoken Days, — I Am Determined To Prove A Villain, And Hate The Idle Pleasures Of These Days.

Tis Better Using France Than Trusting France; Let Us Be Back'd With God, And With The Seas, Which He Hath Given For Fence Impregnable, And With Their Helps Only Defend Ourselves; In Them, And In Ourselves, Our Safety Lies.

You Saw Her Fair, None Else Being By, Herself Pois'd With Herself In Either Eye; But In That Crystal Scales Let There Be Weigh'd Your Lady's Love Against Some Other Maid That I Will Show You Shining At This Feast, And She Shall Scant Show Well That Now Seems Best.

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

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

For I Am Nothing If Not Critical.

She Never Told Her Love, But Let Concealment, Like A Worm 'i Th' Bud, Feed On Her Damask Cheek. She Pinned In Thought; And, With A Green And Yellow Melancholy, She Sat Like Patience On A Monument, Smiling At Grief. Was Not This Love Indeed? We Men May Say More, Swear More; But Indeed Our Shows Are More Than Will; For We Still Prove Much In Our Vows But Little In Our Love.

Of All The Flowers, Me Thinks A Rose Is Best.

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.

For I Have Neither Wit, Nor Words, Nor Worth, Action, Nor Utterance, Nor The Power Of Speech, To Stir Men's Blood: I Only Speak Right On; I Tell You That Which You Yourselves Do Know.

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

An Two Men Ride Of A Horse, One Must Ride Behind.

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

Be Advised; Heat Not A Furnace For Your Foe So Hot That It Do Singe Yourself: We May Outrun, By Violent Swiftness, That Which We Run At, And Lose By Over-running. Know You Not, The Fire That Mounts The Liquor Til Run O'er, In Seeming To Augment It Wastes It?

So Curses All Eve's Daughters Of What Complexion Soever.

Lay On, Mcduff, And Be Damned He Who First Cries, 'hold, Enough!

To Fear The Foe, Since Fear Oppresseth Strength, Gives, In Your Weakness, Strength Unto Your Foe, And So Your Follies Fight Against Yourself. Fear, And Be Slain--so Worse Can Come To Fight; And Fight And Die Is Death Destroying Death, Where Fearing Dying Pays Death Servile Breath.

He That Is Thy Friend Indeed, He Will Help Thee In Thy Need: If Thou Sorrow, He Will Weep; If Thou Wake, He Cannot Sleep: Thus Of Every Grief In Heart He With Thee Does Bear A Part. These Are Certain Signs To Know Faithful Friend From Flattering Foe.

We That Are True Lovers Run Into Strange Capers; But As All Is Mortal In Nature, So Is All Nature In Love Mortal In Folly.

The Instances That Second Marriage Move Are Base Respects Of Thrift, But None Of Love.

Will Fortune Never Come With Both Hands Full, But Write Her Fair Words Still In Foulest Terms?

O, Grief Hath Changed Me Since You Saw Me Last, And Careful Hours With Time's Deformed Hand Have Written Strange Defeatures In My Face. But Tell Me Yet, Dost Thou Not Know My Voice?

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

Alack, There Lies More Peril In Thine Eye Than Twenty Of Their Swords: Look Thou But Sweet, And I Am Proof Against Their Enmity.

To Do A Great Right Do A Little Wrong.

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.

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