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Then Is Courtesy A Turncoat. But It Is Certain I Am Loved Of All Ladies, Only You Excepted: And I Would I Could Find In My Heart That I Had Not A Hard Heart; For, Truly, I Love None. Beatrice: A Dear Happiness To Women: They Would Else Have Been Troubled With A Pernicious Suitor. I Thank God And My Cold Blood, I Am Of Your Humour For That: I Had Rather Hear My Dog Bark At A Crow Than A Man Swear He Loves Me. -much Ado About Nothing

-William Shakespeare

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Then Is Courtesy A

William Shakespeare

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Then Is Courtesy A Turncoat. But It Is Certain I Am Loved Of All Ladies, Only You Excepted: And I Would I Could Find In My Heart That I Had Not A Hard Heart; For, Truly, I Love None. Beatrice: A Dear Happiness To Women: They Would Else Have Been Troubled With A Pernicious Suitor. I Thank God And My Cold Blood, I Am Of Your Humour For That: I Had Rather Hear My Dog Bark At A Crow Than A Man Swear He Loves Me. -much Ado About Nothing

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Muster Your Wits; Stand In Your Own Defence.

This Is No Time To Lend Money, Especially Upon Bare Friendship Without Security.

But I Will Be, A Bridegroom In My Death, And Run Into't As To A Lover's Bed.

Something Is Rotten In The State Of Denmark.

Disease And Death

By Heaven, I Do Love: And It Hath Taught Me To Rhyme, And To Be Mekancholy.

The Trust I Have Is In Mine Innocence, And Therefore Am I Bold And Resolute.

Hang Those That Talk Of Fear.

Who Would Be So Mocked With Glory, Or To Live But In A Dream Of Friendship, To Have His Pomp And All What State Compounds But Only Painted, Like His Varnished Friends?

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.

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

To Show Our Simple Skill, That Is The True Beginning Of Our End.

My Falcon Now Is Sharp And Passing Empty, And Till She Stoop She Must Not Be Full-gorged, For Then She Never Looks Upon Her Lure.

Taming Of The Shrew

Love Denied Blights The Soul We Owe To God.

Is This The Generation Of Love? Hot Blood, Hot Thoughts And Hot Deeds? Why, They Are Vipers. Is Love A Generation Of Vipers?

Then Happy I That Love And Am Beloved, Where I May Not Remove Nor Be Removed.

Every Offense Is Not A Hate At First.

If Her Breath Were As Terrible As Her Terminations, There Were No Living Near Her, She Would Infect To The North Star!

Our Wills And Fates Do So Contrary Run.

I Have Of Late--but Wherefore I Know Not--lost All My Mirth, Forgone All Custom Of Exercise.

What Early Tongue So Sweet Saluteth Me? Young Son, It Argues A Distemper'd Head So Soon To Bid Good Morrow To Thy Bed: Care Keeps His Watch In Every Old Man's Eye, And Where Care Lodges, Sleep Will Never Lie; But Where Unbruised Youth With Unstuff'd Brain Doth Couch His Limbs, There Golden Sleep Doth Reign.

Thou Art The Best O' The Cut-throats

But Whate'er I Am, Nor I Nor Any Man That But Man Is, With Nothing Shall Be Pleased 'til He Be Eased With Being Nothing.

And Where The Offense Is, Let The Great Axe Fall.

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

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

Happy Are They That Hear Their Detractions, And Can Put Them To Mending.

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

Were't Not For Laughing, I Should Pity Him.

I Think The Devil Will Not Have Me Damned, Lest The Oil That's In Me Should Set Hell On Fire.

Inconstancy Falls Off Ere It Begins.

The Fringed Curtains Of Thine Eye Advance, And Say What Thou Seest Yond.

Gonzalo From Tempest

Two May Keep Counsel Putting One Away!

By Being Seldom Seen, I Could Not Stir But Like A Comet I Was Wondered At.

What Showers Arise, Blown With The Windy Tempest Of My Heart

The Horn, The Horn, The Lusty Horn Is Not A Thing To Laugh To Scorn.

Wisdom And Goodness To The Vile Seem Vile; Filths Savour But Themselves.

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

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.

The Deep Of Night Is Crept Upon Our Talk, And Nature Must Obey Necessity.

We Will Meet; And There We May Rehearse Most Obscenely And Courageously.

He Shall Spurn Fate, Scorn Death, And Bear His Hopes 'bove Wisdom, Grace And Fear: And You All Know, Security Is Mortals' Chiefest Enemy.

What Can Be Happier Than For A Man, Conscious Of Virtuous Acts, And Content With Liberty, To Despise All Human Affairs?

Be Bloody, Bold, And Resolute; Laugh To Scorn The Power Of Man.

Wilt Thou Whip Thine Own Faults In Other Men?

'tis Better To Bear The Ills We Have Than Fly To Others That We Know Not Of.

Hamlet And Ophelia

I Do The Wrong, And First Begin To Brawl. The Secret Mischiefs That I Set Abroach I Lay Unto The Grievous Charge Of Others.

I Pray You, Do Not Fall In Love With Me, For I Am Falser Than Vows Made In Wine.

Foul Fiend Of France And Hag Of All Despite, Encompassed With Thy Lustful Paramours, Becomes It Thee To Taunt His Valiant Age And Twit With Cowardice A Man Half Dead?

For As A Surfeit Of The Sweetest Things The Deepest Loathing To The Stomach Brings, Or As Tie Heresies That Men Do Leave Are Hated Most Of Those They Did Deceive, So Thou, My Surfeit And My Heresy, Of All Be Hated, But The Most Of Me!

Two Lovely Berries Moulded On One Stem; So, With Two Seeming Bodies, But One Heart.

Love Asks Me No Questions, And Gives Me Endless Support.

Beauty's A Doubtful Good, A Glass, A Flower, Lost, Faded, Broken, Dead Within An Hour; And Beauty, Blemish'd Once, For Ever's Lost, In Spite Of Physic, Painting, Pain, And Cost.

He Capers, He Dances, He Has Eyes Of Youth, He Writes Verses, He Speaks Holiday, He Smells April And May.

If You Spend Word For Word With Me, I Shall Make Your Wit Bankrupt.

And Be These Juggling Friends No More Believ'd, That Palter With Us In A Double Sense; That Keep The Word Of Promise To Our Ear And Break It To Our Hope.

Frame Your Mind To Mirth And Merriment Which Bars A Thousand Harms And Lengthens Life.

Man And Wife, Being Two, Are One In Love.

O Prosperina, For The Flowers Now That, Frighted, Thou Let'st Fall From Dis's Wagon; Daffodils, That Come Before The Swallow Dares, And Take The Winds Of March With Beauty; Violets Dim, But Sweeter Than The Lids Of Juno's Eyes Or Cytherea's Breath; Pale Primroses, That Die Unmarried, Ere They Can Behold Bright Phoebus In His Strength--a Malady Most Incident To Maids; Bold Oxlips And The Crown Imperial; Lilies Of All Kinds, The Flower-de-luce Being One.

What Is More Miserable Than Discontent?

You Blocks, You Stones, You Worse Than Senseless Things!

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.

Were I The Moor I Would Not Be Iago. In Following Him I Follow But Myself; Heaven Is My Judge, Not I For Love And Duty, But Seeming So For My Peculiar End. For When My Outward Action Doth Demonstrate The Native Act And Figure Of My Heart In Compliment Extern, ’tis Not Long After But I Will Wear My Heart Upon My Sleeve For Daws To Peck At. I Am Not What I Am

What's Done Can't Be Undone.

Every Fair From Fair Sometime Declines

A Heaven On Earth I Have Won By Wooing Thee.

Poor Desdemona! I Am Glad Thy Father's Dead. Thy Match Was Mortal To Him, And Pure Grief Shore His Old Thread In Twain.

On Pain Of Death, No Person Be So Bold.

See What A Ready Tongue Suspicion Hath!

My Dear, Dear Lord, The Purest Treasure Mortal Times Afford Is Spotless Reputation; That Away Men Are But Gilded Loan Or Painted Clay... Mine Honor Is My Life; Both Grow In One; Take Honor From Me, And My Life Is Done.

I Have Touched The Highest Point Of All My Greatness.

Those That Do Teach Young Babes Do It With Gentle Means And Easy Tasks.

Through The Forest Have I Gone. But Athenian Found I None, On Whose Eyes I Might Approve This Flower's Force In Stirring Love. Night And Silence.--who Is Here? Weeds Of Athens He Doth Wear: This Is He, My Master Said, Despised The Athenian Maid; And Here The Maiden, Sleeping Sound, On The Dank And Dirty Ground. Pretty Soul! She Durst Not Lie Near This Lack-love, This Kill-courtesy. Churl, Upon Thy Eyes I Throw All The Power This Charm Doth Owe. When Thou Wakest, Let Love Forbid Sleep His Seat On Thy Eyelid: So Awake When I Am Gone; For I Must Now To Oberon.

Farewell, Good Salisbury, And Good Luck Go With Thee!

Be Patient, For The World Is Broad And Wide.

The Benediction Of These Covering Heavens Fall On Their Heads Like Dew, For They Are Worthy To Inlay Heaven With Stars.

Like Patience Gazing On Kings' Graves, And Smiling Extremity Out Of Act.

He That Sleeps Feels Not The Tooth-ache

Bid Me Run, And I Will Strive With Things Impossible.

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?

But Flies An Eagle Flight, Bold And Forth On, Leaving No Tract Behind.

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

For God's Sake, Let Us Sit Upon The Ground, And Tell Sad Stories Of The Death Of Kings... All Murdered; For Within The Hollow Crown That Rounds The Mortal Temples Of A King, Keeps Death His Court... And With A Little Pin Bores Through His Castle Wall, And Farewell King!

Though Now This Grained Face Of Mine Be Hid In Sap-consuming Winter's Drizzled Snow, And All The Conduits Of My Blood Froze Up, Yet Hath My Night Of Life Some Memory, My Wasting Lamps Some Fading Glimmer Left, My Dull Deaf Ears A Little Use To Hear.

Wishers Were Ever Fools.

Who Alone Suffers Suffers Most I' Th' Mind, Leaving Free Things And Happy Shows Behind; But Then The Mind Much Sufferance Doth O'erskip When Grief Hath Mates, And Bearing Fellowship.

Where The Greater Malady Is Fixed, The Lesser Is Scarce Felt.

Thou Art A Boil, A Plague Sore, An Embossed Carbuncle In My Corrupted Blood.

'tis Better To Be Vile Than Vile Esteemed, When Not To Be, Receives Reproach Of Being, And The Just Pleasure Lost, Which Is So Deemed, Not By Our Feeling, But By Others' Seeing.

Give Me My Sin Again.

Tis The Mind That Makes The Body Rich.

Parting Is Such Sweet Sorrow

In Sooth I Know Not Why I Am So Sad. It Wearies Me, You Say It Wearies You; But How I Caught It, Found It, Or Came By It, What Stuff 'tis Made Of, Whereof It Is Born, I Am To Learn.

He Uses His Folly Like A Stalking-horse, And Under The Presentation Of That He Shoots His Wit.

The Heart Hath Treble Wrong When It Is Barr'd The Aidance Of The Tongue.

He's A Soldier; And For One To Say A Soldier Lies, Is Stabbing.

Here's Flowers For You; Hot Lavender, Mints, Savoury, Marjoram; The Marigold, That Goes To Bed Wi' The Sun And With Him Rises Weeping: These Are Flowers Of Middle Summer, And I Think They Are Given To Men Of Middle Age.

Winding Up Days With Toil And Nights With Sleep.

This Man, Lady, Hath Robb'd Many Beasts Of Their Particular Additions: He Is As Valiant As A Lion, Churlish As The Bear, Slow As The Elephant-a Man Into Whom Nature Hath So Crowded Humours That His Valour Is Crush'd Into Folly, His Folly Sauced With Discretion.

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.

There Is A Tide In The Affairs Of Men, Which Taken At The Flood, Leads On To Fortune. Omitted, All The Voyage Of Their Life Is Bound In Shallows And In Miseries. On Such A Full Sea Are We Now Afloat. And We Must Take The Current When It Serves, Or Lose Our Ventures.

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

Let None Presume To Wear An Undeserved Dignity. O That Estates, Degrees, And Offices Were Not Derived Corruptly, And That Clear Honour Were Purchased By The Merit Of The Wearer!

Tis Much When Sceptres Are In Children's Hands, But More When Envy Breeds Unkind Division: There Comes The Ruin, There Begins Confusion.

The Readiness Is All.

Inspirational Life

O Comfort-killing Night, Image Of Hell, Dim Register And Notary Of Shame, Black Stage For Tragedies And Murders Fell, Vast Sin-concealing Chaos, Nurse Of Blame!

O Hell! To Choose Love With Another's Eye.

There Is A History In All Men's Lives, Figuring The Nature Of The Times Deceased, The Which Observed, A Man May Prophesy, With A Near Aim, Of The Main Chance Of Things As Yet Not Come To Life, Which In Their Seeds And Weak Beginnings Lie Intreasured.

Travelers Never Did Lie, Though Fools At Home Condemn Them.

I Must Be Cruel Only To Be Kind; Thus Bad Begins, And Worse Remains Behind.

Denmark In Hamlet

Hamlet And Ophelia

My Joy Is Death- Death, At Whose Name I Oft Have Been Afeard, Because I Wish'd This World's Eternity.

Modest Doubt Is Called The Beacon Of The Wise.

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

Our Praises Are Our Wages.

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.

Speak Of Me As I Am. Nothing Extenuate, Nor Set Down Aught In Malice.

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.

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.

We Cannot All Be Masters, Nor All Masters Cannot Be Truly Followed.

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.

April ... Hath Put A Spirit Of Youth In Everything.

The Silence Often Of Pure Innocence Persuades When Speaking Fails.

I Have Pursued Her, As Love Hath Pursued Me

Her Passions Are Made Of Nothing But The Finest Part Of Pure Love

Time Is Like A Fashionable Host That Slightly Shakes His Parting Guest By The Hand, And With His Arm Outstretch'd, As He Would Fly, Grasps In The Comer.

Speak The Speech, I Pray You, As I Pronounced It To You-trippingly On The Tongue; But If You Mouth It, As Many Of Your Players Do, I Had As Lief The Town-crier Spoke My Lines. Nor Do Not Saw The Air Too Much With Your Hand, Thus, But Use All Gently; For In The Very Torrent, Tempest, And As I May Say, The Whirlwind Of Your Passion, You Must Acquire And Beget A Temperance That May Give It Smoothness.

Excellent Wretch! Perdition Catch My Soul But I Do Love Thee! And When I Love Thee Not, Chaos Is Come Again.

Fight To The Last Gasp.

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

Better Be With The Dead, Whom We To Gain Our Peace, Have Sent To Peace, Than On The Torture Of The Mind To Lie In Restless Ecstasy.

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.

Every Why Has A Wherefore.

Some Sins Do Bear Their Privilege On Earth, And So Doth Yours: Your Fault Was Not Your Folly; Needs Must You Lay Your Heart At His Dispose, Subjected Tribute To Commanding Love, Against Whose Fury And Unmatched Force The Aweless Lion Could Not Wage The Fight Nor Keep His Princely Heart From Richard's Hand.

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.

You See Me Here, You Gods, A Poor Old Man, As Full Of Grief As Age; Wretched In Both.

Great Floods Have Flown From Simple Sources.

Time Is The Nurse And Breeder Of All Good.

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

Right Joyous Are We To Behold Your Face, Most Worthy Brother England; Fairly Met!

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.

Keep Thy Friend Under Thy Own Life's Key.

Hamlet: Is This A Prologue, Or The Posy Of A Ring? Ophelia: 'tis Brief, My Lord. Hamlet: As Woman's Love.

Hamlet And Ophelia

He That Is Thy Friend Indeed, He Will Help You In Your Need.

Is There No Respect Of Place, Persons, Nor Time In You?

A College Of Wit-crackers Cannot Flout Me Out Of My Humor. Dost Thou Think I Care For A Satire Or An Epigram?

Merciful Heaven, Thou Rather With Thy Sharp And Sulphurous Bolt Splits The Unwedgeable And Gnarled Oak Than The Soft Myrtle; But Man, Proud Man, Dressed In A Little Brief Authority, Most Ignorant Of What He's Most Assured His Glassy Essence--like An Angry Ape Plays Such Fantastic Tricks Before High Heaven As Makes The Angels Weep; Who, With Our Spleens, Would All Themselves Laugh Mortal.

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.

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.

I Love Thee; None But Thee, And Thou Deservest It

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

For There Was Never Yet Philosoper That Could Endure The Toothache Patiently, However They Have Writ The Style Of Gods, And Made A Push At Chance And Sufferance.

Sleep, That Sometimes Shuts Up Sorrow's Eye.

I'll Drown More Sailors Than The Mermaid Shall; I'll Slay More Gazers Than The Basalisks; I'll Play The Orator As Well As Nestor, Decieve More Slily That Ulysses Could, And Like A Sinon, Take Another Troy. I Can Add Colors To The Chameleon, Change Shapes With Proteus For Advantages And Set The Murderous Machiavel To School. Can I Do This, And Cannot Get A Crown? Tut! Were It Further Off, I'll Pluck It Down.

The Play's The Thing, Wherein I'll Catch The Conscience Of The King.

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

O Shame, Where Is Thy Blush?

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

Seek Happy Nights To Happy Days.w

Romeo And Juliet Play

Spirits Are Not Finely Touched But To Fine Issues.

Having My Freedom, Boast Of Nothing Else.

There Are A Sort Of Men, Whose Visages Do Cream And Mantle, Like A Standing Pond; And Do A Willful Stillness Entertain, With Purpose To Be Dressed In An Opinion Of Wisdom, Gravity Profound Conceit; As Who Should Say, I Am Sir Oracle, And When I Ope My Lips, Let No Dog Bark!

Of Chastity, The Ornaments Are Chaste.

All Things That We Ordained Festival Turn From Their Office To Black Funeral-- Our Instruments To Melancholy Bells, Our Wedding Cheer To A Sad Burial Feast; Our Solemn Hymns To Sullen Dirges Change; Our Bridal Flowers Serve For A Buried Corse; And All Things Change Them To The Contrary.

Oft Have I Heard That Grief Softens The Mind And Makes It Fearful And Degenerate.

Against Ill Chances Men Are Ever Merry, But Heaviness Foreruns The Good Event.

Forget, Forgive; Conclude, And Be Agreed.

Fair Thoughts And Happy Hours Attend On You.

Adieu! I Have Too Grieved A Heart To Take A Tedious Leave.

That Skull Had A Tongue In It, And Could Sing Once: How The Knave Jowls It To The Ground, As If It Were Cain's Jaw-bone, That Did The First Murder! It Might Be The Pate Of A Politician, Which This Ass Now O'er-reaches; One That Would Circumvent God, Might It Not?

And Will He Not Come Again? And Will He Not Come Again? No, No, He Is Dead. Go To Thy Deathbed. He Never Will Come Again.

Look, What A Horse Should Have He Did Not Lack, Save A Proud Rider On His Back.

The Wheel Is Come Full Circle.

She Is Mine Own, And I As Rich In Having Such A Jewel As Twenty Seas, If All Their Sand Were Pearl, The Water Nectar, And The Rocks Pure Gold.

Pause Awhile, And Let My Counsel Sway You.

Lay Aside Life-harming Heaviness, And Entertain A Cheerful Disposition.

When Workmen Strive To Do Better Than Well, They Do Confound Their Skill In Covetousness.

A Pair Of Star-crossed Lovers.

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

When He Is Best, He Is A Little Worse Than A Man; And When He Is Worst, He Is Little Better Than A Beast.

Covering Discretion With A Coat Of Folly.

...vaulted With Such Ease Into His Seat, As If An Angel Dropp'd Down From The Clouds, To Turn And Wind A Fiery Pegasus, And Witch The World With Noble Horsemanship.

Jesters Do Oft Prove Prophets.

If It Be Aught Toward The General Good, Set Honor In One Eye And Death I' Th' Other, And I Will Look On Both Indifferently; For Let The Gods So Speed Me As I Love The Name Of Honor More Than I Fear Death.

I Have Drunk And Seen The Spider.

Do You Take Me For A Sponge, My Lord? Hamlet: Ay, Sir; That Soaks Up The King's Countenance, His Rewards, His Authorities. But Such Officers Do The King Best Service In The End: He Keeps Them, Like An Ape, In The Corner Of His Jaw; First Mouthed, To Be Last Swallowed: When He Needs What You Have Gleaned, It Is But Squeezing You, And, Sponge, You Shall Be Dry Again. Rosencrantz: I Understand You Not, My Lord. Hamlet: I Am Glad Of It: A Knavish Speech Sleeps In A Foolish Ear.

Suffer Love; A Good Epithet! I Do Suffer Love, Indeed, For I Love Thee Against My Will.

Past All Shame, So Past All Truth.

Truly, I Would Not Hang A Dog By My Will, Much More A Man Who Hath Any Honesty In Him.

. . . It Is Impossible You Should Take True Root But By The Fair Weather That You Make Yourself It Is Needful That You Frame The Season Of Your Own Harvest.

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

A Victory Is Twice Itself When The Achiever Brings Home Full Numbers.

The Sweat Of Industry Would Dry And Die, But For The End It Works To.

If Thou Dost Marry, I'll Give Thee This Plague For Thy Dowry: Be Thou As Chaste As Ice, As Pure As Snow, Thou Shalt Not Escape Calumny.

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.

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

Art Thou Not, Fatal Vision, Sensible To Feelings As To Sight?

Now Entertain Conjecture Of A Time When Creeping Murmur And The Poring Dark Fills The Wide Vessel Of The Universe.

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

Very Good Orators, When They Are Out, They Will Spit; And For Lovers, Lacking--god Warn Us!--matter, The Cleanliest Shift Is To Kiss.

No Longer Mourn For Me When I Am Dead Than You Shall Hear The Surly Sullen Bell Give Warning To The World That I Am Fled From This Vile World With Vilest Worms To Dwell: Nay, If You Read This Line, Remember Not The Hand That Writ It, For I Love You So, That I In Your Sweet Thoughts Would Be Forgot, If Thinking On Me Then Should Make You Woe. O! If, I Say, You Look Upon This Verse When I Perhaps Compounded Am With Clay, Do Not So Much As My Poor Name Rehearse; But Let Your Love Even With My Life Decay; Lest The Wise World Should Look Into Your Moan, And Mock You With Me After I Am Gone.

We Are Not Ourselves When Nature, Being Oppressed, Commands The Mind To Suffer With The Body.

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