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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.

-William Shakespeare

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See First That The

William Shakespeare

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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.

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Under Loves Heavy Burden Do I Sink. --romeo

To Mourn A Mischief That Is Past And Gone Is The Next Way To Draw New Mischief On.

A Man Can Die But Once.

Time Does Not Have The Same Appeal For Every One

O Serpent Heart Hid With A Flowering Face! Did Ever A Dragon Keep So Fair A Cave? Beautiful Tyrant, Feind Angelical, Dove Feather Raven, Wolvish-ravening Lamb! Despised Substance Of Devinest Show, Just Opposite To What Thou Justly Seemest - A Dammed Saint, An Honourable Villain!

What Ugly Sights Of Death Within Mine Eyes!

Good Morrow, Fair Ones; Pray You, If You Know, Where In The Purlieus Of This Forest Stands A Sheep-cote Fenc'd About With Olive Trees?

Present Mirth Hath Present Laughter. What's To Come Is Still Unsure.

No Matter Where; Of Comfort No Man Speak: Let's Talk Of Graves, Of Worms, And Epitaphs; Make Dust Our Paper And With Rainy Eyes Write Sorrow On The Bosom Of The Earth

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.

Romans, Countrymen, And Lovers, Hear Me For My Cause, And Be Silent, That You May Hear.

That In The Captains But A Choleric Word Which In The Soldier Is Flat Blasphemy.

Measure For Measure

When Remedies Are Past, The Griefs Are Ended By Seeing The Worst, Which Late On Hopes Depended.

Before Thee Stands This Fair Hesperides, With Golden Fruit, But Dangerous To Be Touched; For Death-like Dragons Here Affright Thee Hard.

Or Art Thou But / A Dagger Of The Mind, A False Creation, / Proceeding From The Heat-oppressed Brain?

Things In Motion Sooner Catch The Eye Than What Not Stirs.

Thus Did I Keep My Person Fresh And New, My Presence, Like A Robe Pontifical, Ne'er Seen But Wondered At, And So My State, Seldom But Sumptuous, Showed Like A Feast.

By The Pricking Of My Thumbs, Something Wicked This Way Comes.

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

There Is No Sure Foundation Set On Blood, No Certain Life Achieved By Others' Death.

Experience Teacheth Us That Resolution 's A Sole Help At Need: And This, My Lord, Our Honour Teacheth Us, That We Be Bold In Every Enterprise: Then Since There Is No Way, But Fight Or Die, Be Resolute, My Lord, For Victory.

Full Many A Lady I Have Eyed With Best Regard, And Many A Time Th' Harmony Of Their Tongues Hath Into Bondage Brought My Too Diligent Ear; For Several Virtues Have I Liked Several Women; Never Any With So Full Soul But Some Defect In Her Did Quarrel With The Noblest Grace She Owed, And Put It To The Foil.

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

Here Is A Rural Fellow That Will Not Be Denied Your Highness' Presence: He Brings You Figs.

Love Bears It Out Even To The Edge Of Doom.

Cleopatra: If It Be Love Indeed, Tell Me How Much. Antony: There's Beggary In The Love That Can Be Reckoned. Cleopatra: I'll Set A Bourne How Far To Be Belov'd. Antony: Then Must Thou Needs Find Out New Heaven, New Earth.

If Thou Art Rich, Thou Art Poor; For, Like An Ass, Whose Back With Ingots Bows, Thou Bearest Thy Heavy Riches But A Journey, And Death Unloads Thee.

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.

I Will Not Choose What Many Men Desire, Because I Will Not Jump With Common Spirits And Rank Me With The Barbarous Multitudes.

You Had Measured How Long A Fool You Were Upon The Ground.

The Latter End Of A Fray, And The Beginning Of A Feast, Fits A Dull Fighter, And A Keen Guest.

For I Am Nothing If Not Critical.

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

Foul Whisperings Are Abroad

But O, How Bitter A Thing It Is To Look Into Happiness Through Another Man's Eyes.

Antonio: Will You Stay No Longer? Nor Will You Not That I Go With You? Sebastian: By Your Patience, No. My Stars Shine Darkly Over Me; The Malignancy Of My Fate Might, Perhaps, Distemper Yours; Therefore I Shall Crave Of You Your Leave That I May Bear My Evils Alone. It Were A Bad Recompense For Your Love To Lay Any Of Them On You.

Why, Courage Then! What Cannot Be Avoided 'twere Childish Weakness To Lament Or Fear.

But Earthlier Happy Is The Rose Distill'd Than That Which Withering On The Virgin Thorn Grows, Lives, And Dies In Single Blessedness.

O, Let My Books Be Then The Eloquence And Dumb Presagers Of My Speaking Breast, Who Plead For Love, And Look For Recompense, More Than That Tongue That More Hath More Expressed.

A Rarer Spirit Never Did Steer Humanity; But You Gods Will Give Us Some Faults To Make Us Men.

Who Seeks, And Will Not Take, When Once 'tis Offer'd, Shall Never Find It More.

New Opportunity

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

I Am Not Of That Feather, To Shake Off My Friend When He Must Need Me

Either To Die The Death Or To Abjure For Ever The Society Of Men. Therefore, Fair Hermia, Question Your Desires; Know Of Your Youth, Examine Well Your Blood, Whether, If You Yield Not To Your Father's Choice, You Can Endure The Livery Of A Nun, For Aye To Be In Shady Cloister Mew'd, To Live A Barren Sister All Your Life, Chanting Faint Hymns To The Cold Fruitless Moon. Thrice-blessed They That Master So Their Blood, To Undergo Such Maiden Pilgrimage; But Earthlier Happy Is The Rose Distill'd, Than That Which Withering On The Virgin Thorn Grows, Lives And Dies In Single Blessedness.

To Business That We Love We Rise Betime, And Go To't With Delight.

Know My Name Is Lost, By Treason's Tooth Bare-gnawn And Canker-bit; Yet Am I Noble As The Adversary I Come To Cope.

Lend Less Than You Owe.

There Was Never Yet Fair Woman But She Made Mouths In A Glass.

Care For Us! True, Indeed! They Ne'er Cared For Us Yet: Suffer Us To Famish, And Their Storehouses Crammed With Grain; Make Edicts For Usury, To Support Usurers; Repeal Daily Any Wholesome Act Established Against The Rich, And Provide More Piercing Statutes Daily To Chain Up And Restrain The Poor. If The Wars Eat Us Not Up, They Will; And There's All The Love They Bear Us.

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

We, Ignorant Of Ourselves, Beg Often Our Own Harms, Which The Wise Powers Deny Us For Our Good; So Find We Profit By Losing Of Our Prayers.

Why, Look You, I Am Whipp'd And Scourg'd With Rods, Nettled And Stung With Pismires[nettles], When I Hear Of This Vile Politician, Bolingbroke.

Ever Note, Lucilius, When Love Begins To Sicken And Decay It Useth An Enforced Ceremony. There Are No Tricks In Plain And Simple Faith; But Hollow Men, Like Horses Hot At Hand, Make Gallant Show And Promise Of Their Mettle; But When They Should Endure The Bloody Spur, They Fall Their Crests, And Like Deceitful Jades Sink In The Trial.

Take All The Swift Advantage Of The Hours.

How Art Thou Out Of Breath When Thou Hast Breath To Say To Me That Thou Art Out Of Breath?

I Have Thought Some Of Nature's Journeymen Had Made Men And Not Made Them Well, They Imitated Humanity So Abominably.

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

Make Less Thy Body Hence, And More Thy Grace. Leave Gormandizing.

A Hit, A Very Palpable Hit.

What's In A Name? That Which We Call A Rose By Any Other Name Would Smell As Sweet.

Fortune Is Painted Blind, With A Muffler Afore Her Eyes, To Signify To You That Fortune Is Blind.

Quince Francis Flute, The Bellows-mender. Flute Here, Peter Quince. Quince Flute, You Must Take Thisby On You. Flute What Is Thisby? A Wandering Knight? Quince It Is The Lady That Pyramus Must Love. Flute Nay, Faith, Let Me Not Play A Woman; I Have A Beard Coming.

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

To Be Honest, As This World Goes, Is To Be One Man Picked Out Of Ten Thousand.

The Devil Shall Have His Bargain; For He Was Never Yet A Breaker Of Proverbs--he Will Give The Devil His Due.

Let Us, Like Merchants, Show Our Foulest Wares, And Think Perchance They'll Sell; If Not, The Lustre Of The Better Yet To Show Shall Show The Better.

As There Comes Light From Heaven And Words From Breath, As There Is Sense In Truth And Truth In Virtue

These Signs Have Marked Me Extraordinary, And All The Courses Of My Life Do Show I Am Not In The Roll Of Common Men.

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

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

Comfort's In Heaven, And We Are On The Earth

These Violent Delights Have Violent Ends And In Their Triumph Die, Like Fire And Powder, Which As They Kiss Consume. The Sweetest Honey Is Loathsome In His Own Deliciousness And In The Taste Confounds The Appetite. Therefore Love Moderately; Long Love Doth So; Too Swift Arrives As Tardy As Too Slow.

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

My Love Is As A Fever, Longing Still For That Which Longer Nurseth The Disease, Feeding On That Which Doth Preserve The Ill, Th' Uncertain Sickly Appetite To Please. My Reason, The Physician To My Love, Angry That His Prescriptions Are Not Kept, Hath Left Me, And I Desperate Now Approve Desire Is Death, Which Physic Did Except.

Therefore The Moon, The Governess Of Floods, Pale In Her Anger Washes All The Air, That Rheumatic Diseases Do Abound; And Through This Distemperature We See The Seasons Alter: Hoary-headed Frosts Fall In The Fresh Lap Of The Crimson Rose.

God Send Everyone Their Heart's Desire!

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

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?

Men's Faults Do Seldom To Themselves Appear.

Give Thy Thoughts No Tongue, Nor Any Unproportioned Thought His Act. Be Thou Familiar But By No Means Vulgar.

Read O'er This And After, This, And Then To Breakfast With What Appetite You Have.

Sweet Recreation Barred, What Doth Ensue But Moody And Dull Melancholy, Kinsman To Grim And Comfortless Despair.

Rough Winds Do Shake The Darling Buds Of May.

Beauty, Wit, High Birth, Vigour Of Bone, Desert In Service, Love, Friendship, Charity, Are Subjects All To Envious And Calumniating Time.

Know More Than Other. Work More Than Other. Expect Less Than Other

Love Is A Smoke Raised With The Fume Of Sighs; Being Purged, A Fire Sparkling In Lovers' Eyes; Being Vexed, A Sea Nourished With Loving Tears. What Is It Else? A Madness Most Discreet, A Choking Gall, And A Preserving Sweet. *here’s What Love Is: A Smoke Made Out Of Lovers' Sighs. When The Smoke Clears, Love Is A Fire Burning In Your Lover’s Eyes. If You Frustrate Love, You Get An Ocean Made Out Of Lovers' Tears. What Else Is Love? It’s A Wise Form Of Madness. It’s A Sweet Lozenge That You Choke On.*

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.

There Is Throats To Be Cut, And Works To Be Done.

Polonius: Do You Know Me, My Lord? Hamlet: Excellent Well. You Are A Fishmonger.

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

Can It Be That Modesty May More Betray Our Sense Than Woman's Lightness? Having Waste Ground Enough, Shall We Desire To Raze The Sanctuary And Pitch Our Evils There?

Sweets Grown Common Lose Their Dear Delight.

When Sorrows Come, They Come Not Single Spies, But In Battalions.

As Love Is Full Of Unbefitting Strains, All Wanton As A Child, Skipping And Vain, Form'd By The Eye And Therefore, Like The Eye, Full Of Strange Shapes, Of Habits And Of Forms, Varying In Subjects As The Eye Doth Roll To Every Varied Object In His Glance

My Brain More Busy Than The Labouring Spider Weaves Tedious Snares To Trap Mine Enemies.

But Shall We Wear These Glories For A Day? Or Shall They Last, And We Rejoice In Them?

He's Mad That Trusts In The Tameness Of A Wolf.

A Man Loves The Meat In His Youth That He Cannot Endure In His Age.

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

O Wretched State! O Bosom Black As Death! O Limed Soul That, Struggling To Be Free, Art More Engaged! Help, Angels! Make Assay! Bow, Stubborn Knees! And, Heart With Strings Of Steel, Be Soft As Sinews Of The New-born Babe!

Sleep Dwell Upon Thine Eyes, Peace In Thy Breast! Would I Were Sleep And Peace, So Sweet To Rest.

You Are My True And Honourable Wife; As Dear To Me As The Ruddy Drops That Visit My Sad Heart.

No Stony Bulwark Can Resist The Love, And Love Dares What Anyone Can Love.

The Morning Steals Upon The Night, Melting The Darkness.

Thanks, Sir; All The Rest Is Mute.

There Is Special Providence In The Fall Of A Sparrow.

Hamlet And Ophelia

Pray You Now, Forget And Forgive.

Forgive And Forget

No Might Nor Greatness In Mortality Can Censure 'scape; Back- Wounding Calumny The Whitest Virtue Strikes. What King So Strong Can Tie The Gall Up In The Slanderous Tongue?

Vice Repeated Is Like The Wandering Wind, Blows Dust In Others' Eyes To Spread Itself.

I'll Privily Away; I Love The People, But Do Not Like To Stage Me To Their Eyes; Though It Do Well, I Do Not Relish Well Their Loud Applause And Aves Vehement, Nor Do I Think The Man Of Safe Discretion That Does Not Affect It.

For Murder, Though It Have No Tongue, Will Speak With Most Miraculous Organ.

Denmark In Hamlet

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.

Some Cupid Kills With Arrows, Some With Traps.

Tis The Times' Plague, When Madmen Lead The Blind.

Lords, Knights And Gentlemen, What I Should Say My Tears Gainsay; For Every Word I Speak, Ye See I Drink The Water Of My Eye.

I Cannot Do It Without Comp[u]ters.

Write Till Your Ink Be Dry, And With Your Tears Moist It Again, And Frame Some Feeling Line That May Discover Such Integrity.

Love, Which Teacheth Me That Thou And I Am One

What, No More Ceremony? See, My Women! Against The Blown Rose May They Stop Their Nose That Kneel'd Unto The Buds.

What, Shall One Of Us, That Struck For The Foremost Man Of All This World But For Supporting Robbers--shall We Now Contaminate Our Fingers With Base Bribes, And Sell The Mighty Space Of Our Large Honors For So Much Trash As May Be Grasped Thus?

Life Every Man Holds Dear; But The Dear Man Holds Honor Far More Precious Dear Than Life.

Sin Will Pluck On Sin.

Sick In The World's Regard, Wretched And Low.

Things Won Are Done, Joy's Soul Lies In The Doing.

For I Am Proverbed With A Grandsire Phrase.

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)

Thy Husband Is Thy Lord, Thy Life, Thy Keeper, Thy Head, Thy Sovereign; One That Cares For Thee, And For Thy Maintenance Commits His Body To Painful Labour Both By Sea And Land, To Watch The Night In Storms, The Day In Cold, Whilst Thou Liest Warm At Home, Secure And Safe; And Craves No Other Tribute At Thy Hands But Love, Fair Looks And True Obedience; Too Little Payment For So Great A Debt.

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.

I Will Make Thee Think Thy Swan A Crow.

No, By My Soul, I Never In My Life Did Hear A Challenge Urged More Modestly, Unless A Brother Should A Brother Dare To Gentle Exercise And Proof Of Arms.

God Bless Thee; And Put Meekness In Thy Breast, Love, Charity, Obedience, And True Duty!

As I Love The Name Of Honour More Than I Fear Death.

I Thank God I Am Not A Woman, To Be Touched In So Many Giddy Offences As He Hath Generally Taxed Their Whole Their Whole Sex Withal.

I Pray You, In Your Letters, When You Shall These Unlucky Deeds Relate, Speak Of Me As I Am; Nothing Extenuate, Nor Set Down Aught In Malice. Then Must You Speak Of One That Loved Not Wisely But Too Well; Of One Not Easily Jealous, But Being Wrought, Perplexed In The Extreme. . .

It Is The Stars, The Stars Above Us, Govern Our Conditions.

Thrift, Thrift, Horatio! The Funeral Bak'd Meats Did Coldly Furnish Forth The Marriage Tables.

Denmark In Hamlet

Lay Not That Flattering Unction To Your Soul, That Not Your Trespass But My Madness Speaks.

How Oft The Sight Of Means To Do Ill Deeds Makes Ill Deeds Done!

He Was A Man, Take Him For All In All, I Shall Not Look Upon His Like Again.

A Hand As Fruitful As The Land That Feeds Us; His Dew Falls Everywhere.

Set Honour In One Eye And Death I' The Other, And I Will Look On Both Indifferently.

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

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

How Much Better Is It To Weep At Joy Than To Joy At Weeping?

Present Fears Are Less Than Horrible Imaginings.

A Scar Nobly Got Is A Good Livery Of Honor.

Though Patience Be A Tired Mare, Yet She Will Plod.

In Persons Grafted In A Serious Trust, Negligence Is A Crime.

Dreams, Indeed, Are Ambition; For The Very Substance Of The Ambitious Is Merely The Shadow Of A Dream. And I Hold Ambition Of So Airy And Light A Quality That It Is But A Shadow's Shadow.

Mine Eyes Are Full Of Tears, My Heart Of Grief.

There's Place And Means For Every Man Alive.

Love Is . . . A Madness Most Discreet

He Doth Nothing But Talk Of His Horses.

Do Not Swear By The Moon, For She Changes Constantly. Then Your Love Would Also Change.

And Yet,to Say The Truth, Reason And Love Keep Little Company Together Nowadays.

Fie, Fie, How Frantically I Square My Talk!

For Many Men That Stumble At The Threshold Are Well Foretold That Danger Lurks Within.

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

Thou Whoreson Zed! Thou Unnecessary Letter!

From You Have I Been Absent In The Spring, When Proud Pied April, Dressed In All His Trim, Hath Put A Spirit Of Youth In Every Thing.

Of All Base Passions, Fear Is The Most Accursed.

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

'tis Pride That Pulls The Country Down.

The Daintiest Last, To Make The End Most Sweet.

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

No Metal Can--no, Not The Hangman's Axe--bear Half The Keenness Of Thy Sharp Envy.

That England, That Was Wont To Conquer Others, Hath Made A Shameful Conquest Of Itself.

Truly The Souls Of Men Are Full Of Dread: Ye Cannot Reason Almost With A Man That Looks Not Heavily And Full Of Fear.

Done To Death By Slanderous Tongue

I Can Counterfeit The Deep Tragedian; Speak And Look Back, And Pry On Every Side, Tremble And Start, At Wagging Of A Straw, Intending Deep Suspicion.

I Stalk About Her Door, Like A Strange Soul Upon The Stygian Banks Staying For Waftage.

O, What A World Of Vile Ill-favored Faults, Looks Handsome In Three Hundred Pounds A Year!

A Friend Should Bear His Friend's Infirmities.

Women Are Not In Their Best Fortunes Strong, But Want Will Perjure The Ne'er-touched Vestal.

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

But Wherefore Could Not I Pronounce 'amen'? I Had Most Need Of Blessing, And 'amen' Stuck In My Throat.

Open Thy Gate Of Mercy, Gracious God, My Soul Flies Through These Wounds To Seek Out Thee.

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

I Begin To Find An Idle And Fond Bondage In The Oppression Of Aged Tyranny, Who Sways, Not As It Hath Power, But As It Is Suffered.

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

Give Every Man Thy Ear, But Few Thy Voice.

Would It Not Grieve A Woman To Be Over-mastered By A Piece Of Valiant Dust? To Make An Account Of Her Life To A Clod Of Wayward Marle?

Light, Seeking Light, Doth Light Of Light Beguile

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

A Poor Thing, Perhaps, But My Own.

Let Them Obey That Knows Not How To Rule.

A Goodly Portly Man, I' Faith, And A Corpulent; Of A Cheerful Look, A Pleasing Eye, And A Most Noble Carriage; And, As I Think, His Age Some Fifty, Or, By'r Lady, Inclining To Threescore; And Now I Remember Me, His Name Is Falstaff.

France Is A Dog-hole, And It No More Merits The Tread Of A Man's Foot.

Neither My Place, Nor Aught I Heard Of Business, Hath Raised Me From My Bed; Nor Doth The General Care Take Hold On Me; For My Particular Grief Is Of So Floodgate And O'erbearing Nature That It Engluts And Swallows Other Sorrows, And It Is Still Itself.

'tis Brief, My Lord...as Woman's Love.

Ay, But To Die And Go We Know Not Where; To Lie In Cold Obstrution And To Rot; This Sensible Warm Motion To Become A Kneaded Clod; And The Delighted Spirit To Bathe In Fiery Floods Or To Reside In Thrilling Regions Of Thick-ribbed Ice; To Be Imprison'd In The Viewless Winds, And Blown With Restless Violence Round About The Pendant World.

O All You Host Of Heaven! O Earth! What Else? And Shall I Couple Hell?

This Thou Perceivest, Which Makes Thy Love More Strong, To Love That Well Which Thou Must Leave Ere Long

This Fellow Pecks Up Wit, As Pigeons Peas; And Utters It Again When God Doth Please: He Is Wit's Pedler; And Retails His Wares.

You, And Your Lady, Take From My Heart All Thankfulness!

Good Morrow, 'tis Saint Valentine's Day, All In The Morn Betime, And I A Maid At Your Window, To Be Your Valentine.

The Will Is Infinite And The Execution Confin'd, The Desire Is Boundless And The Act A Slave To Limit.

Corruption Wins Not More Than Honesty.

Love Is Heavy And Light, Bright And Dark, Hot And Cold, Sick And Healthy, Asleep And Awake- Its Everything Except What It Is! (act 1, Scene 1)

What, Gone Without A Word? Ay, So True Love Should Do; It Cannot Speak, For Truth Hath Better Deeds Than Words To Grace It.

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