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The Gods Are Just, And Of Our Pleasant Vices Make Instruments To Plague Us.

-William Shakespeare

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The Gods Are Just,

William Shakespeare

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The Gods Are Just, And Of Our Pleasant Vices Make Instruments To Plague Us.

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What, All So Soon Asleep! I Wish Mine Eyes Would, With Themselves, Shut Up My Thoughts.

I Have Drunk And Seen The Spider.

My Stars Shine Darkly Over Me

Tis Gold Which Buys Admittance--oft It Doth--yea, And Makes Diana's Rangers False Themselves, Yield Up This Deer To Th' Stand O' Th' Stealer: And 'tis Gold Which Makes The True Man Kill'd And Saves The Thief, Nay, Sometimes Hangs Both Thief And True Man.

Muster Your Wits; Stand In Your Own Defence.

A Happy Ending Cannot Come In The Middle Of The Story

I Doubt Not Then But Innocence Shall Makefalse Accusation Blush, And Tyrannytremble At Patience.

The Loyalty, Well Held To Fools, Does Make Our Faith Mere Folly.

Within The Book And Volume Of Thy Brain.

I Cannot But Remember Such Things Were That Were Most Precious To Me.

O That My Tongue Were In The Thunder's Mouth! Then With Passion Would I Shake The World, And Rouse From Sleep That Fell Anatomy Which Cannot Hear A Lady's Feeble Voice, Which Scorns A Modern Invocation.

See, What A Ready Tongue Suspicion Hath! He That But Fears The Thing He Would Not Know, Hath, By Instinct, Knowledge From Others' Eyes, That What He Feared Is Chanced.

Methought I Was Enamour'd Of An Ass.

What Have We Here? A Man Or A Fish? Dead Or Alive? A Fish: He Smells Like A Fish; A Very Ancient And Fishlike Smell; A Kind Of Not Of The Newest Poor-john. A Strange Fish!

The Fashion Of The World Is To Avoid Cost, And You Encounter It.

Do Thou Amend Thy Face, And I'll Amend My Life.

O Mischief, Thou Art Swift To Enter In The Thoughts Of Desperate Men!

Ten Kisses Short As One, One Long As Twenty.

In Jest, There Is Truth.

The Blood Weeps From My Heart When I Do Shape, In Forms Imaginary, Th' Unguided Days And Rotten Times That You Shall Look Upon When I Am Sleeping With My Ancestors.

Thou Canst Not Speak Of What Thou Dost Not Feel.

I...kisss The Tender Inward Of Thy Hand.

Good Company, Good Wine, Good Welcome, Can Make Good People.

It Comes To Pass Oft That A Terrible Oath, With A Swaggering Accent Sharply Twanged Off, Gives Manhood More Approbation Than Ever Proof Itself Would Have Earned Him.

Friends Now Fast Sworn, Whose Double Bosoms Seems To Wear One Heart, Whose Hours, Whose Bed, Whose Meal And Exercise Are Still Together, Who Twin, As 'twere, In Love, Unseparable, Shall Within This Hour, On A Dissension Of A Doit, Break Out To Bitterest Enmity; So Fellest Foes, Whose Passions And Whose Plots Have Broke Their Sleep To Take The One The Other, By Some Chance, Some Trick Not Worth An Egg, Shall Grow Dear Friends And Interjoin Their Issues.

The Web Of Our Life Is Of A Mingled Yarn, Good And Ill Together: Our Virtues Would Be Proud If Our Faults Whipped Them Not; And Our Crimes Would Despair If They Were Not Cherished By Our Own Virtues.

Better Three Hours Too Soon, Than One Hour To Late.

Why, What's The Matter, That You Have Such A February Face, So Full Of Frost, Of Storm And Cloudiness?

Preposterous Ass, That Never Read So Far To Know The Cause Why Music Was Ordain'd! Was It Not To Refresh The Mind Of Man, After His Studies Or His Usual Pain?

Words Are Grown So False, I Am Loath To Prove Reason With Them.

Heaven Truly Knows That Thou Art False As Hell.

I Hate Ingratitude More In A Man Than Lying, Vainness, Babbling, Drunkenness, Or Any Taint Of Vice Whose Strong Corruption Inhabits Our Frail Blood".

No Man's Pie Is Freed From His Ambitious Finger.

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

Who Finds The Heifer Dead And Bleeding Fresh And Sees Fast-by A Butcher With An Axe, But Will Suspect 'twas He That Made The Slaughter?

And Therefore Is Love Said To Be A Child, Because In Choice He Is So Oft Beguil'd

A Countenance More In Sorrow Than In Anger.

All Fancy-sick She Is And Pale Of Cheer, With Sighs Of Love, That Costs The Fresh Blood Dear.

If Fortune Torments Me, Hope Contents Me.

And Nothing Is, But What Is Not.

Darkness In Macbeth

Awake, Dear Heart, Awake. Thou Hast Slept Well. Awake.

The Bay-trees In Our Country Are All Withered, And Meteors Fright The Fixèd Stars Of Heaven. The Pale-faced Moon Looks Bloody On The Earth, And Lean-looked Prophets Whisper Fearful Change. Rich Men Look Sad, And Ruffians Dance And Leap; The One In Fear To Lose What They Enjoy, The Other To Enjoy By Rage And War. These Signs Forerun The Death Or Fall Of Kings.

Minutes, Hours, Days, Months, And Years, Pass'd Over To The End They Were Created, Would Bring White Hairs Unto A Quiet Grave. Ah, What A Life Were This!

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!

They Are But Beggars That Can Count Their Worth.

Not A Whit, We Defy Augury: There's A Special Providence In The Fall Of A Sparrow. If It Be Now, 'tis Not To Come; If It Be Not To Come, It Will Be Now; If It Be Not Now, Yet It Will Come: The Readiness Is All.

The Rose Looks Fair, But Fairer We It Deem For That Sweet Odour Which Doth In It Live.

O, Reason Not The Need!

Men Prize The Thing Ungained More Than It Is.

Marry, Sir, They Praise Me And Make An Ass Of Me. Now My Foes Tell Me Plainly I Am An Ass; So That By My Foes, Sir, I Profit In The Knowledge Of Myself, Any By My Friends I Am Abused; So That, Conclusions To Be As Kisses, If Your Four Negatives Make Your Two Affirmatives, Why Then, The Worse For My Friends, And The Better For My Foes.

The Soul Of This Man Is His Clothes.

Thus Play I In One Person Many People, And None Contented: Sometimes Am I King; Then Treasons Make Me Wish Myself A Beggar, And So I Am: Then Crushing Penury Persuades Me I Was Better When A King; Then Am I King'd Again: And By And By Think That I Am Unking'd By Bolingbroke, And Straight Am Nothing: But Whate'er I Be, Nor I Nor Any Man That But Man Is With Nothing Shall Be Pleased, Till He Be Eased With Being Nothing.

Angels And Ministers Of Grace Defend Us.

Denmark In Hamlet

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

Oh, Injurious Love, That Respites Me A Life, Whose Very Comfort Is Still A Dying Horror

But Yet, I Say, If Imputation And Strong Circumstances, Which Lead Directly To The Door Of Truth, Will Give You Satisfaction, You May Have It.

Never Anything Can Be Amiss, When Simpleness And Duty Tender It.

Highly Fed And Lowly Taught.

Gloucester, We Have Done Deeds Of Charity, Made Peace Of Enmity, Fair Love Of Hate, Between These Swelling Wrong-incensed Peers.

[thine] Face Is Not Worth Sunburning.

It Is A Heretic That Makes The Fire, Not She Which Burns In It.

Positive Atheism

This Thought Is As A Death.

Tis Not The Many Oaths That Make The Truth; But The Plain Single Vow, That Is Vow'd True.

The Arms Are Fair, When The Intent Of Bearing Them Is Just.

Lady, You Are The Cruel'st She Alive If You Will Lead These Graces To The Grave And Leave The World No Copy.

If There Be Devils, Would I Were A Devil, To Live And Burn In Everlasting Fire, So I Might Have Your Company In Hell, But To Torment You With My Bitter Tongue!

What Time Hath Scanted Men In Hair, He Hath Given Them In Wit.

There Is No More Mercy In Him Than There Is Milk In A Male Tiger.

Good Fortune Then! To Make Me Blest Or Cursed'st Among Men.

Between The Acting Of A Dreadful Thing And The First Motion, All The Interim Is Like A Phantasma Or A Hideous Dream.

Every Inordinate Cup Is Unbless'd, And The Ingredient Is A Devil.

There Is Flattery In Friendship.

And Teach Me How To Name The Bigger Light, And How The Less, That Burn By Day And Night.

When Remedies Are Past, The Griefs Are Ended By Seeing The Worst, Which Late On Hopes Depended. To Mourn A Mischief That Is Past And Gone Is The Next Way To Draw New Mischief On. What Cannot Be Preserved When Fortune Takes, Patience Her Injury A Mockery Makes. The Robb'd That Smiles Steals Something For The Thief; He Robs Himself That Spends A Bootless Grief.

A Kind Of Excellent Dumb Discourse.

Manhood Is Melted Into Courtesies, Valor Into Compliment, And Men Are Only Turned Into Tongue, And Trim Ones, Too.

But Clay And Clay Differs In Dignity, Whose Dust Is Both Alike.

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

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

If You Have Tears, Prepare To Shed Them Now.

If To Do Were As Easy As To Know What Were Good To Do, Chapels Had Been Churches, And Poor Men's Cottage Princes' Palaces.

Beshrew That Heart That Makes My Heart To Groan For That Deep Wound It Gives My Friend And Me; Is't Not Enough To Torture Me Alone, But Slave To Slavery My Sweet'st Friend Must Be?

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

'tis Better To Be Vile Than Vile Esteemed

Say She Rail; Why, I'll Tell Her Plain She Sings As Sweetly As A Nightingale. Say That She Frown; I'll Say She Looks As Clear As Morning Roses Newly Wash'd With Dew. Say She Be Mute And Will Not Speak A Word; Then I'll Commend Her Volubility, And Say She Uttereth Piercing Eloquence.

Romeo To Balthasar But If Thou, Jealous, Dost Return To Pry In What I Further Shall Intend To Do, By Heaven, I Will Tear Thee Joint By Joint And Strew This Hungry Churchyard With Thy Limbs: The Time And My Intents Are Savage-wild, More Fierce And More Inexorable Far Than Empty Tigers Or The Roaring Sea.

If Thou Wilt Lend This Money, Lend It Not As To Thy Friends; For When Did Friendship Take A Breed For Barren Metal Of His Friend?

Merchant Of Venice

Why, Headstrong Liberty Is Lashed With Woe. There's Nothing Situate Under Heaven's Eye But Hath His Bound, In Earth, In Sea, In Sky.

If By Chance I Talk A Little Wild, Forgive Me; I Had It From My Father.

Rich Gifts Wax Poor When Givers Prove Unkind.

Denmark In Hamlet

Extreme Fear Can Neither Fight Nor Fly.

I Like This Place And Could Willingly Waste My Time In It.

Wasting My Time

Live Loath'd And Long, Most Smiling, Smooth, Detested Parasites, Courteous Destroyers, Affable Wolves, Meek Bears, You Fools Of Fortune, Trencher Friends, Time Flies Cap And Knee Slaves, Vapors, And Minute Jacks.

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

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

Tam: What Begg’st Thou Then? Fond Woman, Let Me Go. Lav: ’tis Present Death I Beg; And One Thing More That Womanhood Denies My Tongue To Tell. O! Keep Me From Their Worse Than Killing Lust, And Tumble Me Into Some Loathsome Pit, Where Never Man’s Eye May Behold My Body: Do This, And Be A Charitable Murderer. Tam: So Should I Rob My Sweet Sons Of Their Fee: No, Let Them Satisfy Their Lust On Thee. Dem: Away! For Thou Hast Stay’d Us Here Too Long. Lav: No Grace! No Womanhood! Ah, Beastly Creature, The Blot And Enemy To Our General Name. Confusion Fall—

Devoutly To Be Wish'd. To Die, To Sleep; To Sleep, Perchance To Dream—for In That Sleep Of Death What Dreams May Come,when We Have Shuffled Off This Mortal Coil, Must Give Us Pause, There's The Respect, That Makes Calamity Of So Long Life

I Am Declined Into The Vale Of Years.

Men Must Endure Their Going Hence, Even As Their Coming Hither. Ripeness Is All.

Truth Will Come To Sight; Murder Cannot Be Hid Long.

O, That This Too Too Solid Flesh Would Melt Thaw And Resolve Itself Into A Dew! Or That The Everlasting Had Not Fix'd His Canon 'gainst Self-slaughter! O God! God! How Weary, Stale, Flat And Unprofitable, (135) Seem To Me All The Uses Of This World! Fie On't! Ah Fie! 'tis An Unweeded Garden, That Grows To Seed; Things Rank And Gross In Nature Possess It Merely. That It Should Come To This! But Two Months Dead: Nay, Not So Much, Not Two: (140) So Excellent A King; That Was, To This.

Make Use Of Time, Let Not Advantage Slip; Beauty Within Itself Should Not Be Wasted: Fair Flowers That Are Not Gather'd In Their Prime Rot And Consume Themselves In Little Time.

England Is Safe, If True Within Itself.

Get Thee To A Nunnery.

This Thing Of Darkness I Acknowledge Mine.

Life... Is A Paradise To What We Know Of Death.

Value Dwells Not In Particular Will; It Holds His Estimate And Dignity As Well Wherein 'tis Precious Of Itself As In The Prizer.

Brave New World Character

By The Apostle Paul, Shadows Tonight Have Struck More Terror To The Soul Of Richard Than Can The Substance Of Ten Thousand Soldiers.

Tell Me Where Is Fancy Bred, Or In The Heart, Or In The Head? How Begot, How Nourished? Reply, Reply. It Is Engend'red In The Eyes, With Gazing Fed, And Fancy Dies In The Cradle Where It Lies.

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.

Oh, Flatter Me; For Love Delights In Praises.

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

Where The Bee Sucks, There Suck I In The Cow-slip's Bell I Lie There I Couch When Owls Do Cry

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.

Is She Not Passing Fair?

I Have Touch'd The Highest Point Of All My Greatness, And From That Full Meridian Of My Glory I Haste Now To My Setting.

Tis Now The Very Witching Time Of Night, When Churchyards Yawn And Hell Itself Breathes Out Contagion To This World.

Denmark In Hamlet

Fear Not, Cesario, Take Thy Fortunes Up. Be That Thou Know'st Thou Art And Then Thou Art As Great As That Thou Fear'st.

You Abilities Are Too Infant-like For Doing Much Alone.

The Quality Of Nothing Hath Not Such Need To Hide Itself

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

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.

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

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.

Security Is The Chief Enemy Of Mortals.

Safety And Security

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

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 Law Hath Not Been Dead, Though It Hath Slept.

Measure For Measure

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

This World To Me Is Like A Lasting Storm,whirring Me From My Friends.

Away, You Mouldy Rogue, Away!

They Say, The Tongues Of Dying Men Enforce Attention, Like Deep Harmony; Where Words Are Scarce, They're Seldom Spent In Vain; For They Breathe Truth, That Breathe Their Words In Pain.

It Is In Pardoning That We Are Pardoned.

Go, Bid The Soldiers Shoot.

By Jove, I Am Not Covetous For Gold, Nor Care I Who Doth Feed Upon My Cost; It Yearns Me Not If Me My Garments Wear; Such Outward Things Dwell Not In My Desires: But If It Be A Sin To Covet Honor, I Am The Most Offending Soul Alive.

My Tongue Will Tell The Anger Of My Heart, Or Else My Heart Concealing It Will Break.

Hot Blood Begets Hot Thoughts, And Hot Thoughts Beget Hot Deeds, And Hot Deeds Is Love.

Twas A Clever Quibble. Here, A Garment For It.

My Free Drift Halts Not Particularly, But Moves Itself In A Wide Sea Of Wax; No Levelled Malice Infects One Comma In The Course I Hold, But Flies An Eagle Flight, Bold And Forth On, Leaving No Tract Behind.

Let Me Not To The Marriage Of True Minds Admit Impediments. Love Is Not Love Which Alters When It Alteration Finds, Or Bends With The Remover To Remove: O No! It Is An Ever-fixed Mark That Looks On Tempests And Is Never Shaken; It Is The Star To Every Wandering Bark, Whose Worth's Unknown, Although His Height Be Taken. Love's Not Time's Fool, Though Rosy Lips And Cheeks Within His Bending Sickle's Compass Come: Love Alters Not With His Brief Hours And Weeks, But Bears It Out Even To The Edge Of Doom. If This Be Error And Upon Me Proved, I Never Writ, Nor No Man Ever Loved.

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!

Good Hamlet, Cast Thy Nighted Colour Off ... Do Not For Ever With Thy Vailed Lids Seek For Thy Noble Father In The Dust.

I Would Fain Die A Dry Death.

Here Comes A Pair Of Very Strange Beasts, Which In All Tongues Are Called Fools.

Such As We Are Made Of, Such We Be.

Thou Call'st Me Dog Before Thou Hadst A Cause, But Since I Am A Dog, Beware My Fangs.

Thrust Your Head Into The Public Street, To Gaze On Christian Fools With Varnish'd Faces.

Ay, That Incestuous, That Adulterate Beast, With Witchcraft Of His Wit, With Traitorous Gifts- O Wicked Wit And Gifts, That Have The Power So To Seduce!

I Hope To See London Once Ere I Die.

Better Three Hours Too Soon Than A Minute Too Late.

There Is Little Choice In A Barrel Of Rotten Apples.

The Southern Wind Doth Play The Trumpet To His Purposes; And, By His Hollow Whistling In The Leaves, Foretells A Tempest And A Blustering Day.

Hereafter, In A Better World Than This, I Shall Desire More Love And Knowledge Of You

We Cannot Conceive Of Matter Being Formed Of Nothing, Since Things Require A Seed To Start From... Therefore There Is Not Anything Which Returns To Nothing, But All Things Return Dissolved Into Their Elements.

I Despised My Arrival On This Earth And I Despise My Departure; It Is A Tragedy.

For What I Will, I Will, And There An End.

Wherefore Was I To This Keen Mockery Born? When At Your Hands Did I Deserve This Scorn? Is't Not Enough, Is't Not Enough, Young Man, That I Did Never, No, Nor Never Can, Deserve A Sweet Look From Demetrius' Eye, But You Must Flout My Insufficiency?

The Expedition Of My Violent Love Outrun The Pauser, Reason.

This Wimpled, Whining, Purblind, Wayward Boy, This Senior Junior, Giant Dwarf...cupid.

We Must Every One Be A Man Of His Own Fancy.

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

I Am Thy Father's Spirit; Doom'd For A Certain Term To Walk The Night And, For The Day, Confin'd To Fast In Fires, Till The Foul Crimes, Done In My Days Of Nature, Are Burnt And Purg'd Away.

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

Exit, Pursued By A Bear.

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

I Have Unclasp'd To Thee The Book Even Of My Secret Soul.

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.

When Most I Wink, Then Do My Eyes Best See

Zounds! Sir, You Are One Of Those That Will Not Serve God If The Devil Bid You.

By Heaven, I Love Thee Better Than Myself

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.

O, Full Of Scorpions Is My Mind!

Tomorrow, And Tomorrow, And Tomorrow,creeps In This Petty Pace From Day To Day

Futility Of Life

A Miracle. Here's Our Own Hands Against Our Hearts. Come, I Will Have Thee, But By This Light I Take Thee For Pity. Beatrice: I Would Not Deny You, But By This Good Day, I Yield Upon Great Persuasion, And Partly To Save Your Life, For I Was Told You Were In A Consumption. Benedick: Peace. I Will Stop Your Mouth.

In Thee Thy Mother Dies, Our Household's Name, My Death's Revenge, Thy Youth, And England's Fame.

We Have Seen Better Days.

Do All Men Kill The Things They Do Not Love ............ The Quality Of Mercy Is Not Strain'd It Droppeth As The Gentle Rain From Heaven Upon The Place Beneath: It Is Twice Blest It Blesseth Him That Gives And Him That Takes

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.

Let Us Kill All Lawyers

Women Speak Two Languages - One Of Which Is Verbal.

Ambition Should Be Made Of Sterner Stuff.

Oh God! That One Might Read The Book Of Fate, And See The Revolution Of The Times Make Mountains Level, And The Continent, Weary Of Solid Firmness, Melt Itself Into The Sea.

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

Be Patient, For The World Is Broad And Wide.

Assume A Virtue, If You Have It Not. That Monster, Custom, Who All Sense Doth Eat; Of Habits Devil, Is Angel Yet In This.

Through Tattered Clothes, Small Vices Do Appear. Robes And Furred Gowns Hide All.

We Must Be Gentle Now We Are Gentlemen.

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

Age Cannot Wither Her, Nor Custom Stale Her Infinite Variety.

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

What Is Thy Sentence Then But Speechless Death.

See Where She Comes Apparelled Like The Spring.

On A Day - Alack The Day! - Love, Whose Month Is Ever May, Spied A Blossom Passing Fair Playing In The Wanton Air

I Dote On His Very Absence.

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

Let Not The World See Fear And Sad Distrust Govern The Motion Of A Kingly Eye.

A Sentence Is But A Cheveril Glove To A Good Wit; How Quickly The Wrong Side May Be Turned Outward!

A Little More Than Kin, And Less Than Kind.

In Such Business Action Is Eloquence, And The Eyes Of Th’ Ignorant More Learned Than The Ears.

Is Twenty Hundred Kisses Such A Trouble?

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