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That Is Not The Best Sermon Which Makes The Hearers Go Away Talking To One Another And Praising The Speaker, But Which Makes Them Go Away Thoughtful And Serious, And Hastening To Be Alone.

-William Shakespeare

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That Is Not The

William Shakespeare

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That Is Not The Best Sermon Which Makes The Hearers Go Away Talking To One Another And Praising The Speaker, But Which Makes Them Go Away Thoughtful And Serious, And Hastening To Be Alone.

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Love Is Merely A Madness.

By How Much Unexpected, By So Much We Must Awake Endeavour For Defence; For Courage Mounteth With Occasion.

Of All Knowledge The Wise And Good Seek Most To Know Themselves.

Wert Thou As Far As That Vast Shore Washed With The Farthest Sea, I Would Adventure For Such Merchandise.

For Brutus Is An Honourable Man; So Are They All, All Honourable Men.

Tis Our Fast Intent To Shake All Cares And Business From Our Age, Conferring Them On Younger Strengths, While We Unburdened Crawl Toward Death.

Wisely Weigh Our Sorrow With Our Comfort.

You Have But Mistook Me All The While... I Live By Bread Like You, Taste Grief, Feel Want, Need Friends. Conditioned Thus How Can You Call Me King?

If I Shall Be Condemned Upon Surmises, All Proofs Sleeping Else But What Your Jealousies Awake, I Tell You 'tis Rigor And Not Law.

A Wicked Conscience Mouldeth Goblins Swift As Frenzy Thoughts.

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.

Thus Die I, Thus, Thus, Thus. Now Am I Dead, Now Am I Fled; My Soul Is In The Sky: Tongue, Lose Thy Light; Moon Take Thy Flight. Now Die, Die, Die, Die, Die.

That You Were Once Unkind Befriends Me Now, And For That Sorrow, Which I Then Did Feel, Needs Must I Under My Transgression Bow, Unless My Nerves Were Brass Or Hammered Steel.

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.

Hang There Like Fruit, My Soul, Till The Tree Die!

No Worse A Husband Than The Best Of Men.

Barnes Are Blessings.

You Are Thought Here To The Most Senseless And Fit Man For The Job.

My Soul Is In The Sky.

There's No Art To Find The Mind's Construction In The Face.

Our Fancies Are More Giddy And Unfirm, More Longing, Wavering, Sooner Lost And Won, Than Women's Are.

I Will Through And Through Cleanse The Foul Body Of Th' Infected World, If They Will Patiently Receive My Medicine.

What A Deformed Thief This Fashion Is.

My Business Was Great, And In Such A Case As Mine A Man May Strain Courtesy.

Let Him Smell His Way To Dover!

The Poet's Eye, In A Fine Frenzy Rolling, Doth Glance From Heaven To Earth, From Earth To Heaven; And As Imagination Bodies Forth The Forms Of Things Unknown, The Poet's Pen Turns Them To Shape, And Gives To Airy Nothing A Local Habitation And A Name; Such Tricks Hath Strong Imagination.

Let Me Have War, Say I; It Exceeds Peace As Far As Day Does Night; It's Spritely, Waking, Audible, And Full Of Vent.

There's Small Choice In Rotten Apples.

To Sleep Perchance To Dream

That God Forbid, That Made Me First Your Slave, I Should In Thought Control Your Times Of Pleasure, Or At Your Hand Th' Account Of Hours To Crave, Being Your Vassal Bound To Stay Your Leisure.

Love, Therefore, And Tongue-tied Simplicity In Least Speak Most, To My Capacity.

Though Those That Are Betray'd Do Feel The Treason Sharply, Yet The Traitor Stands In Worse Case Of Woe

Promising Is The Very Air O' Th' Time; It Opens The Eyes Of Expectation. Performance Is Ever Duller For His Act; And, But In The Plainer And Simpler Kind Of People, The Deed Of Saying Is Quite Out Of Use. To Promise Is Most Courtly And Fashionable; Performance Is A Kind Of Will Or Testament Which Argues A Great Sickness In His Judgment That Makes It.

Foul Deeds Will Rise, Though All The Earth O'erwhelm Them, To Men's Eyes.

All Things That Are, Are With More Spirit Chased Than Enjoyed.

Merchant Of Venice

To You Your Father Should Be As A God; One That Composed Your Beauties, Yea, And One To Whom You Are But As A Form In Wax, By Him Imprinted, And Within His Power To Leave The Figure Or Disfigure It.

Coal-black Is Better Than Another Hue In That It Scorns To Bear Another Hue; For All The Water In The Ocean Can Never Turn The Swan's Black Legs To White, Although She Lave Them Hourly In The Flood.

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!

Look On Beauty, And You Shall See 'tis Purchased By The Weight.

Out, Damned Spot! Out, I Say! One: Two: Why, Then 'tis Time To Do't. Hell Is Murky!

Is It Not Strange That Desire Should So Many Years Outlive Performance?

It Is A Sin To Be A Mocker.

... By Indirections Find Directions Out.

I Could Be Well Content To Entertain The Lag-end Of My Life With Quiet Hours.

My Love Is As A Fever, Longing Still.

I Do Profess To Be No Less Than I Seem; To Serve Him Truly That Will Put Me In Trust: To Love Him That Is Honest; To Converse With Him That Is Wise, And Says Little; To Fear Judgment; To Fight When I Cannot Choose; And To Eat No Fish.

Go Hang Yourself, You Naughty Mocking Uncle!

By My Troth, I Care Not; A Man Can Die But Once; We Owe God A Death And Let It Go Which Way It Will He That Dies This Year Is Quit For The Next

Rumour Doth Double, Like The Voice And Echo, The Numbers Of The Feared.

He Was Ever Precise In Promise-keeping.

Promises That Are Broken

Time Is The Nurse And Breeder Of All Good.

This Most Excellent Canopy, The Air, Look You, This Brave O-erhanging Firmament, This Majestical Roof Fretted With Golden Fire.

Let Husbands Know Their Wives Have Sense Like Them. They See, And Smell, And Have Their Palates Both For Sweet And Sour, As Husbands Have.

Flower Of This Purple Dye, Hit With Cupid's Archery, Sink In Apple Of His Eye.

O Thou That Dost Inhabit In My Breast, Leave Not The Mansion So Long Tenantless; Lest, Growing Ruinous, The Building Fall And Leave No Memory Of What It Was!

Ay Me! Sad Hours Seem Long.

The Sweetest Honey Is Loathsome In His Own Deliciousness, And In The Taste Confounds The Appetite: Therefore Love Moderately— Long Love Doth So.

I Thank You All And Here Dismiss You All, And To The Love And Favor Of My Country Commit Myself, My Person, And The Cause.

Hath Not A Jew Eyes? Hath Not A Jew Hands, Organs, Dimensions, Senses, Affections, Passions? ...if You Poison Us, Do We Not Die? And If You Wrong Us, Shall We Not Revenge? If We Are Like You In The Rest, We Will Resemble You In That. If A Jew Wrong A Christian, What Is His Humility? Revenge. If A Christian Wrong A Jew, What Should His Sufferance Be By Christian Example?

What's More To Do, Which Would Be Planted Newly With The Time, As Calling Home Our Exiled Friends Abroad That Fled The Snares Of Watchful Tyranny, Producing Forth The Cruel Ministers Of This Dead Butcher And His Fiend-like Queen, Who, As 'tis Thought, By Self And Violent Hands Took Off Her Life; This, And What Needful Else That Calls Upon Us, By The Grace Of Grace We Will Perform In Measure, Time, And Place.

In A False Quarrel There Is No True Valor.

My Thought, Whose Murder Yet Is But Fantastical, Shakes So My Single State Of Man That Function Is Smothered In Surmise, And Nothing Is But What Is Not.

The Devil Can Cite Scripture For His Purpose. An Evil Soul Producing Holy Witness Is Like A Villain With A Smiling Cheek, A Goodly Apple Rotten At The Heart. O, What A Goodly Outside Falsehood Hath!

We Make Guilty Of Our Disasters The Sun, The Moon, And The Stars; As If We Were Villians By Compulsion.

My Thoughts Are Whirled Like A Potter's Wheel; I Know Not Where I Am Nor What I Do.

Doubt Is A Thief That Often Makes Us Fear To Tread Where We Might Have Won.

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

His Steeds To Water At Those Springs On Chaliced Flowers That Lies; And Winking Mary-buds Begin To Ope Their Golden Eyes: With Every Thing That Pretty Is, My Lady Sweet, Arise.

I Do Love My Country's Good With A Respect More Tender, More Holy And Profound, Then Mine Own Life, My Dear Wife's Estimate, Her Womb Increase, And Treasure Of My Loins.

Trust Not My Reading, Nor My Observations, Which With Experimental Seal Do Warrant The Tenor Of My Book.

Give Me My Sin Again.

Suit The Action To The Word, The Word To The Action.

It Is Thyself, Mine Own Self's Better Part; Mine Eye's Clear Eye, My Dear Heart's Dearer Heart; My Food, My Fortune, And My Sweet Hope's Aim, My Sole Earth's Heaven, And My Heaven's Claim.

Oh, How This Spring Of Love Resembleth, The Uncertain Glory Of An April Day, Which Now Shows All Beauty Of The Sun, And By And By A Cloud Takes All Away

Tis The Mind That Makes The Body Rich.

No Sooner Met But They Looked; No Sooner Looked But They Loved; No Sooner Loved But They Sighed; No Sooner Sighed But They Asked One Another The Reason; No Sooner Knew The Reason But They Sought The Remedy; And In These Degrees Have They Made A Pair Of Stairs To Marriage.

I Am Joined With No Foot Land-rakers, No Long-staff, Sixpenny Strikers, None Of These Mad, Mustachio Purple-hued Maltworms, But With Nobility And Tranquillity.

A Girl Takes Too Much Time To Love And A Few Seconds To Hate. But A Boy Takes A Few Seconds To Love And Too Much Time To Hate.

We Must Follow, Not Force Providence.

Foul Cankering Rust The Hidden Treasure Frets, But Gold That's Put To Use More Gold Begets.

Knit Your Hearts With An Unslipping Knot.

May Never Glorious Sun Reflex His Beams Upon The Country Where You Make Abode! But Darkness And The Gloomy Shade Of Death Environ You Till Mischief And Despair Drive You To Break Your Necks Or Hang Yourselves.

Love's Best Habit Is A Soothing Tongue

Thou Art As Wise As Thou Art Beautiful

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

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.

Angels Are Bright Still, Though The Brightest Fell. Though All Things Foul Would Wear The Brows Of Grace, Yet Grace Must Still Look So.

O, Then, What Graces In My Love Do Dwell, That He Hath Turn'd A Heaven Unto Hell

But There Is No Such Man; For, Brother, Men Can Counsel And Speak Comfort To That Grief Which They Themselves Not Feel; But, Tasting It, Their Counsel Turns To Passion, Which Before Would Give Preceptial Medicine To Rage, Fetter Strong Madness In A Silken Thread, Charm Ache With Air And Agony With Words.

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

My Endeavors Have Ever Come Too Short Of My Desires. Yet Filed With My Abilities.

The Prince Of Darkness Is A Gentleman!

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.

Though I Be But Prince Of Wales, Yet I Am The King Of Courtesy.

My Hounds Are Bred Out Of The Spartan Kind; So Flew'd, So Sanded; Their Heads Are Hung With Ears That Sweep Away The Morning Dew.

For Mercutio's Soul Is But A Little Way Above Our Heads, Staying For Thine To Keep Him Company: Either Thou, Or I, Or Both, Must Go With Him.

This Rough Magic I Here Abjure And When I Have Required Some Heavenly Music, Which Even Now I Do, To Work Mine End Upon Their Senses That This Airy Charm Is For, I'll Break My Staff, Bury It Certain Fathoms In The Earth, And Deeper Than Did Ever Plummet Sound, I'll Drown My Book.

When Death Doth Close His Tender Dying Eyes.

Give Me A Bowl Of Wine, In This I Bury All Unkindness.

Making Night Hideous.

Our Very Eyes Are Sometimes, Like Our Judgments, Blind.

Out Of My Sight! Thou Dost Infect Mine Eyes.

A Good Wit Will Make Use Of Anything.

Macbeth: How Does Your Patient, Doctor? Doctor: Not So Sick, My Lord, As She Is Troubled With Thick-coming Fancies That Keep Her From Rest. Macbeth: Cure Her Of That! Canst Thou Not Minister To A Mind Diseased, Pluck From The Memory A Rooted Sorrow, Raze Out The Written Troubles Of The Brain, And With Some Sweet Oblivious Antidote Cleanse The Stuffed Bosom Of That Perilous Stuff Which Weighs Upon Her Heart. Doctor: Therein The Patient Must Minister To Himself.

Don Pedro Come, Lady, Come; You Have Lost The Heart Of Signior Benedick. Beatrice Indeed, My Lord, He Lent It Me Awhile; And I Gave Him Use For It, A Double Heart For His Single One: Marry, Once Before He Won It Of Me With False Dice, Therefore Your Grace May Well Say I Have Lost It. Don Pedro You Have Put Him Down, Lady, You Have Put Him Down. Beatrice So I Would Not He Should Do Me, My Lord, Lest I Should Prove The Mother Of Fools.

Love's Not Love When It Is Mingled With Regards That Stand Aloof From Th' Entire Point.

I Have Ventured, Like Little Wanton Boys That Swim On Bladders, This Many Summers In A Sea Of Glory, But Far Beyond My Depth. My High-blown Pride At Length Broke Under Me, And Now Has Left Me, Weary And Old With Service, To The Mercy Of A Rude Stream That Must For Ever Hide Me.

It Is Meant That Noble Minds Keep Ever With Their Likes; For Who So Firm That Cannot Be Seduced.

Alas, Our Frailty Is The Cause , Not We! For, Such As We Are Made Of, Such We Be.

Till Our King Henry Had Shook Hands With Death.

O, Swear Not By The Moon, The Fickle Moon, The Inconstant Moon, That Monthly Changes In Her Circle Orb, Lest That Thy Love Prove Likewise Variable

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.

The Hind That Would Be Mated By The Lion Must Die For Love.

Dost Thou Love Hawking? Thou Hast Hawks Will Soar Above The Morning Lark.

I'll Note You In My Book Of Memory.

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

Those, That With Haste Will Make A Mighty Fire, Begin It With Weak Straws.

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

This Is The Very Ecstasy Of Love.

Important Hamlet

From Camp To Camp, Through The Foul Womb Of Night, The Hum Of Either Army Stilly Sounds, That The Fixed Sentinels Almost Receive The Secret Whispers Of Each Other's Watch. Fire Answers Fire, And Through Their Play Flames Each Battle Sees The Other's Umbered Face. Steed Threatens Steed, In High And Boastful Neighs Piercing The Night's Dull Ear; And From The Tents The Armorers Accomplishing The Knights, With Busy Hammers Closing Rivets Up, Give Dreadful Note Of Preparation.

Look What Thy Soul Holds Dear, Imagine It To Lie That Way Thou Goest, Not Whence Thou Com'st. Suppose The Singing Birds Musicians, The Grass Whereon Thou Tread'st The Presence Strewed, The Flowers Fair Ladies, And Thy Steps No More Than A Delight Measure Or A Dance; For Gnarling Sorrow Hath Less Power To Bite The Man That Mocks At It And Sets It Light.

In Right And Service To Their Noble Country.

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

He Is Well Paid That Is Well Satisfied.

Well-apparel'd April On The Heel Of Limping Winter Treads.

Have Patience, And Endure

And Do As Adversaries Do In Law, Strive Mightily, But Eat And Drink As Friends.

Indeed, Sir, He That Sleeps Feels Not The Toothache; But A Man That Were To Sleep Your Sleep, And A Hangman To Help Him To Bed, I Think He Would Change Places With His Officer; For Look You, Sir, You Know Not Which Way You Shall Go.

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

To Die, Is To Be Banish'd From Myself; And Silvia Is Myself: Banish'd From Her, Is Self From Self: A Deadly Banishment! What Light Is Light, If Silvia Be Not Seen? What Joy Is Joy, If Silvia Be Not By? Unless It Be To Think That She Is By, And Feed Upon The Shadow Of Perfection. Except I Be By Silvia In The Night, There Is No Music In The Nightingale; Unless I Look On Silvia In The Day, There Is No Day For Me To Look Upon; She Is My Essence, And I Leave To Be, If I Be Not By Her Fair Influence Foster'd, Illumin'd, Cherish'd, Kept Alive.

Full Oft We See Cold Wisdom Waiting On Superfluous Folly.

Farewell, Fair Cruelty.

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

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

The Devil Can Cite Scripture For His Purpose.

Thou Whoreson Zed! Thou Unnecessary Letter! My Lord, If You Will Give Me Leave, I Will Tread This Unbolted Villain Into Mortar, And Daub The Wall Of A Jakes With Him. *all Cheer For Shakespearean Insults*

We That Are True Lovers Run Into Strange Capers.

Angels And Ministers Of Grace Defend Us! Be Thou A Spirit Of Health, Or Goblin Damn'd, Bring With Thee Airs From Heaven, Or Blasts From Hell, Be Thy Intents Wicked, Or Charitable, Thou Com'st In Such A Questionable Shape, That I Will Speak To Thee.

Full Fathom Five Thy Father Lies; Of His Bones Are Coral Made; Those Are Pearls That Were His Eyes; Nothing Of Him That Doth Fade, But Doth Suffer A Sea-change Into Something Rich And Strange. Sea-nymphs Hourly Ring His Knell: Ding-dong. Hark! Now I Hear Them — Ding-dong, Bell.

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.

Sometimes When We Are Labeled, When We Are Branded Our Brand Becomes Our Calling.

He That Wants Money, Means, And Content Is Without Three Good Friends.

Truth Is Truth To The End Of Reckoning.

I Would With Such Perfection Govern, Sir, T'excel The Golden Age.

For Conspiracy, I Know Not How It Tastes, Though It Be Dished For Me To Try How.

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

Fie, Fie, How Frantically I Square My Talk!

Fie, Fie Upon Her! There's Language In Her Eye, Her Cheek, Her Lip, Nay, Her Foot Speaks; Her Wanton Spirits Look Out At Every Joint And Motive Of Her Body.

Lovers Can Do Their Amorous Rites By Their Own Beauties

Romantic Romeo And Juliet

Well, Every One Can Master A Grief But He That Has It.

Dispute Not With Her: She Is Lunatic.

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

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

For Here, I Hope, Begins Our Lasting Joy.

Brutus, I Do Observe You Now Of Late: I Have Not From Your Eyes That Gentleness And Show Of Love As I Was Wont To Have: You Bear Too Stubborn And Too Strange A Hand Over Your Friend That Loves You. Poor Brutus, With Himself At War, Forgets The Shows Of Love To Other Men.

This Making Of Christians Will Raise The Price Of Hogs.

The Best Is Yet To Come.

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

Fair Thoughts And Happy Hours Attend On You.

Supposition All Our Lives Shall Be Stuck Full Of Eyes; For Treason Is But Trusted Like The Fox, Who, Ne'er So Tame, So Cherished And Locked Up, Will Have A Wild Trick Of His Ancestors.

Every Man Has Business And Desire, Such As It Is.

Come My Spade. There Is No Ancient Gentlemen But Gardeners, Ditchers, And Grave-makers; They Hold Up Adam's Profession.

For I Am Proverbed With A Grandsire Phrase.

There's No Trust, No Faith, No Honesty In Men; All Perjured, All Forsworn, All Naught, All Dissemblers.

If I May Trust The Flattering Truth Of Sleep, My Dreams Presage Some Joyful News At Hand. My Bosom's Lord Sits Lightly In His Throne, And All This Day An Unaccustomed Spirit Lifts Me Above The Ground With Cheerful Thoughts.

A Beggar's Book Outworths A Noble's Blood.

Though It Make The Unskillful Laugh, Cannot But Make The Judicious Grieve.

If [god] Send Me No Husband, For The Which Blessing I Am At Him Upon My Knees Every Morning And Evening.

Some Smack Of Age In You, Some Relish Of The Saltness Of Time.

Farewell! A Long Farewell To All My Greatness!

Grief Makes One Hour Ten.

Losing A Loved One

The Villany You Teach Me I Shall Execute; And It Shall Go Hard But I Will Better The Instruction.

I See A Man's Life Is A Tedious One.

I Hope To See London Once Ere I Die.

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

A Thousand Moral Paintings I Can Show That Shall Demonstrate These Quick Blows Of Fortune's More Pregnantly Than Words.

Beauty Provoketh Thieves Sooner Than Gold.

I Would Not Lose So Great An Honor As One Man More Methinks Would Share With Me For The Best Hope I Have.

Oh, That Way Madness Lies; Let Me Shun That.

Such Antics Do Not Amount To A Man.

Whatever Praises Itself But In The Deed, Devours The Deed In The Praise.

Vanity And Pride

Though This Be Madness, Yet There Is Method In't.

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

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.

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

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

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

Don't Trust The Person Who Has Broken Faith Once.

Where Civil Blood Makes Civil Hands Unclean

Romeo And Juliet Love

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

To Take Arms Against A Sea Of Troubles.

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

...and Then, In Dreaming, / The Clouds Methought Would Open And Show Riches / Ready To Drop Upon Me, That When I Waked / I Cried To Dream Again.

For You And I Are Past Our Dancing Days.

Profit Is A Blessing, If It's Not Stolen.

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

The Bitter Clamor Of Two Eager Tongues.

Forget, Forgive; Conclude, And Be Agreed.

A Heavier Task Could Not Have Been Impos'd, Than I To Speak My Griefs Unspeakable.

Let Me Embrace Thee, Sour Adversity, For Wise Men Say It Is The Wisest Course.

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