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There's Little Of The Melancholy Element In Her, My Lord: She Is Never Sad But When She Sleeps; And Not Ever Sad Then; For I Have Heard My Daughter Say, She Hath Often Dreamt Of Unhappiness, And Waked Herself With Laughing.

-William Shakespeare

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There's Little Of The

William Shakespeare

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There's Little Of The Melancholy Element In Her, My Lord: She Is Never Sad But When She Sleeps; And Not Ever Sad Then; For I Have Heard My Daughter Say, She Hath Often Dreamt Of Unhappiness, And Waked Herself With Laughing.

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More From William Shakespeare

Into What Dangers Would You Lead Me, Cassius, That You Would Have Me Seek Into Myself For That Which Is Not In Me?

And Blind Oblivion Swallowed Cities Up.

War Is No Strife To The Dark House And The Detested Wife.

I Have Lived Long Enough. My Way Of Life Is To Fall Into The Sere, The Yellow Leaf, And That Which Should Accompany Old Age, As Honor, Love, Obedience, Troops Of Friends I Must Not Look To Have.

You Know That I Do Fawn On Men, And Hug Them Hard, And After Scandal Them.

Grace Me No Grace, Nor Uncle Me No Uncle.

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

Forget, Forgive; Conclude, And Be Agreed.

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

You Lack The Season Of All Natures, Sleep.

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.

The Silence Often Of Pure Innocence Persuades When Speaking Fails.

Many Can Brook The Weather That Love Not The Wind.

Give Every Man Thy Ear, But Few Thy Voice.

I Am Ill At These Numbers.

I Will Not Be Sworn But Love May Transform Me To An Oyster; But I'll Take My Oath On It, Till He Have Made An Oyster Of Me He Shall Never Make Me Such A Fool.

O, Pardon Me, Thou Bleeding Piece Of Earth, / That I Am Meek And Gentle With These Butchers!

There Is Nothing So Confining As The Prisons Of Our Own Perceptions.

For Mine Own Part, It Was Greek To Me.

O, Full Of Scorpions Is My Mind!

You'd Be So Lean, That Blast Of January Would Blow You Through And Through. Now, My Fair'st Friend, I Would I Had Some Flowers O' The Spring That Might Become Your Time Of Day.

My Language! Heavens!i Am The Best Of Them That Speak This Speech. Were I But Where 'tis Spoken.

I'll Make My Heaven In A Lady's Lap

Love Is A Spirit All Compact Of Fire.

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.

What? Do I Love Her, That I Desire To Hear Her Speak Again, And Feast Upon Her Eyes

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

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

Pleasure And Revenge Have Ears More Deaf Than Adders To The Voice Of Any True Decision.

We Must Not Make A Scarecrow Of The Law, Setting It Up To Fear The Birds Of Prey, And Let It Keep One Shape Till Custom Make It Their Perch, And Not Their Terror.

Those Friends Thou Hast, And Their Adoption Tried, Grapple Them To Thy Soul With Hoops Of Steel; But Do Not Dull Thy Palm With Entertainment Of Each New-hatch'd, Unfledg'd Comrade.

And In The Morn And Liquid Dew Of Youth, Contagious Blastments Are Are Most Imminent.

Thou Shalt Not Stir One Foot To Seek A Foe.

A Smile Cures The Wounding Of A Frown.

Mercy Is Not Itself, That Oft Looks So; Pardon Is Still The Nurse Of Second Woe.

The Voice Of Parents Is The Voice Of Gods, For To Their Children They Are Heaven's Lieutenants.

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!

It Is The Bright Day That Brings Forth The Adder, And That Craves Wary Walking.

I Charge Thee, Hence, And Do Not Haunt Me Thus.

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

O That Men's Ears Should Be To Counsel Deaf But Not To Flattery!

He Thinks Too Much. Such Men Are Dangerous.

Base Is The Slave That Pays.

Like As The Waves Make Towards The Pebbled Shore, So Do Our Minutes Hasten To Their End; Each Changing Place With That Which Goes Before, In Sequent Toil All Forwards Do Contend.

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

O! Let Me Not Be Mad, Not Mad, Sweet Heaven; Keep Me In Temper; I Would Not Be Mad!

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

Wasting My Time

I Desire You In Friendship, And I Will One Way Or Other Make You Amends.

O Time, Thou Must Untangle This, Not I. It Is Too Hard A Knot For Me T'untie.

The Mightier Man, The Mightier Is The Thing That Makes Him Honored Or Begets Him Hate; For Greatest Scandal Waits On Greatest State.

Grief Best Is Pleased With Grief's Society.

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

I Could A Tale Unfold Whose Lightest Word Would Harrow Up Thy Soul, Freeze Thy Young Blood, Make Thy Two Eyes Like Stars Start From Their Spheres, Thy Knotted And Combined Locks To Part, And Each Particular Hair To Stand On End Like Quills Upon The Fretful Porpentine. But This Eternal Blazon Must Not Be To Ears Of Flesh And Blood. List, List, O List!

Demand Me Nothing: What You Know, You Know.

Doubt Thou The Stars Are Fire; Doubt That The Sun Doth Move; Doubt Truth To Be A Liar; But Never Doubt I Love.

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

God Has Given You One Face, And You Make Yourself Another.

The World Must Be Peopled!

The Fool Multitude, That Choose By Show, Not Learning More Than The Fond Eye Doth Teach.

And I Will Make It Felony To Drink Small Beer.

Heaven Take My Soul, And England Keep My Bones!

I'll Follow Thee And Make A Heaven Of Hell, To Die Upon The Hand I Love So Well

My Story Starts At Sea... A Perilous Voyage To An Unknown Land... A Shipwreck... The Wild Waters Roar And Heave... The Brave Vessel Is Dashed All To Pieces, And All The Helpless Souls Within Her Drowned... All Save One... A Lady... Whose Soul Is Greater Than The Ocean... And Her Spirit Stronger Than The Sea's Embrace... Not For Her A Watery End, But A New Life Beginning On A Stranger Shore. It Will Be A Love Story... For She Will Be My Heroine For All Time. And Her Name Will Be... Viola.

Love's Best Habit Is A Soothing Tongue

Should The Poor Be Flattered? No; Let The Candied Tongue Lick Absurd Pomp, And Crook The Pregnant Hinges Of The Knee Where Thrift May Follow Fawning.

How Many Things By Season Seasoned Are To Their Right Praise And True Perfection!

Merchant Of Venice

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.

O' What May Man Within Him Hide, Though Angel On The Outward Side!

Death, Not Romeo, Take My Maidenhead!

Romeo And Juliet Play

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

Come Away, Come Away, Death, And In Sad Cypress Let Me Be Laid; Fly Away, Fly Away, Breath, I Am Slain By A Fair Cruel Maid. My Shroud Of White Stuck All With Yew, O Prepare It! My Part Of Death No One So True Did Share It. Not A Flower, Not A Flower Sweet, On My Black Coffin Let There Be Strewn: Not A Friend, Not A Friend Greet My Poor Corpse, Where My Bones Shall Be Thrown. A Thousand Thousand Sighs To Save, Lay Me O Where Sad True Lover Never Find My Grave, To Weep There!

Don't Judge A Man's Conscience By Looking At His Face Cause He May Have A Bad Heart.

Come What Sorrow Can, It Cannot Countervail The Exchange Of Joy, That One Short Minute Gives Me In Her Sight

Thanks To Men Of Noble Minds, Is Honorable Meed.

Affection Faints Not Like A Pale-faced Coward, But Then Woos Best When Most His Choice Is Froward.

Death, As The Psalmist Saith, Is Certain To All, All Shall Die.

This We Prescribe, Though No Physician; Deep Malice Makes Too Deep Incision; Forget, Forgive; Conclude And Be Agreed; Our Doctors Say This Is No Month To Bleed.

Every Subject's Duty Is The Kings, But Every Subject's Soul Is His Own.

I Were Better To Be Eaten To Death With A Rust Than To Be Scoured To Nothing With Perpetual Motion.

We That Are True Lovers Run Into Strange Capers.

I Am A Feather For Each Wind That Blows

It Will Have Blood, They Say; Blood Will Have Blood.

Important Macbeth

See Where She Comes Apparelled Like The Spring.

Why Didst Thou Promise Such A Beauteous Day And Make Me Travel Forth Without My Cloak, To Let Base Clouds O'ertake Me In My Way, Hiding They Brav'ry In Their Rotten Smoke?

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!

Kent. Where's The King? Gent. Contending With The Fretful Elements; Bids The Wind Blow The Earth Into The Sea, Or Swell The Curled Waters 'bove The Main, That Things Might Change Or Cease; Tears His White Hair, Which The Impetuous Blasts, With Eyeless Rage, Catch In Their Fury And Make Nothing Of; Strives In His Little World Of Man To Outscorn The To-and-fro-conflicting Wind And Rain. This Night, Wherein The Cub-drawn Bear Would Couch, The Lion And The Belly-pinched Wolf Keep Their Fur Dry, Unbonneted He Runs, And Bids What Will Take All.

From This Day To The Ending Of The World, But We In It Shall Be Remembered- We Few, We Happy Few, We Band Of Brothers; For He To-day That Sheds His Blood With Me Shall Be My Brother; Be He Ne’er So Vile, This Day Shall Gentle His Condition; And Gentlemen In England Now-a-bed Shall Think Themselves Accurs’d They Were Not Here, And Hold Their Manhoods Cheap Whiles Any Speaks That Fought With Us Upon Saint Crispin’s Day.

Man, Proud Man, Drest In A Little Brief Authority, Most Ignorant Of What He's Most Assured.

Night's Candles Have Burned Out, And Jocund Day Stands Tiptoe On The Misty Mountaintops." Hope Tinged With Melancholy - Like Life.

For I Am Nothing If Not Critical.

O Heresy In Fair, Fit For These Days, A Giving Hand, Though Foul, Shall Have Fair Praise.

An Angel; Or, If Not, An Earthly Paragon.

I Would That I Were Low Laid In My Grave. I Am Not Worth This Coil That's Made For Me.

Your Worm Is Your Only Emperor For Diet; We Fat All Creatures Else To Fat Us, And We Fat Ourselves For Maggots.

Anger's My Meat. I Sup Upon Myself, And So Shall Starve With Feeding.

I Can See His Pride Peep Through Each Part Of Him.

Thou Art The Mars Of Malcontents.

Take Physic, Pomp; Expose Thyself To Feel What Wretches Feel, That Thou Mayst Shake The Superflux To Them And Show The Heavens More Just.

I Will Speak Daggers To Her, But Use None.

Hamlet And Ophelia

But We Have Reason To Cool Our Raging Motions, Our Carnal Stings, Our Unbitted Lusts; Whereof I Take This That You Call Love To Bea Sect Or Scion.... It Is Merely A Lust Of The Blood And A Permission Of The Will.

In Brief, Sir, Study What You Most Affect.

When Heaven Doth Weep, Doth Not The Earth O'erflow? If The Winds Rage, Doth Not The Sea Wax Mad, Threatening The Welkin With His Big-swoln Face? And Wilt Thou Have A Reason For This Coil? I Am The Sea; Hark, How Her Sighs Do Blow! She Is The Weeping Welkin, I The Earth: Then Must My Sea Be Moved With Her Sighs; Then Must My Earth With Her Continual Tears Become A Deluge, Overflow'd And Drown'd: For Why My Bowels Cannot Hide Her Woes, But Like A Drunkard Must I Vomit Them. Then Give Me Leave, For Losers Will Have Leave To Ease Their Stomachs With Their Bitter Tongues.

This Is The Short And The Long Of It.

I Am In Blood Stepp'd In So Far, That, Should I Wade No More, Returning Were As Tedious As Go O'er.

Thou Ominous And Fearful Owl Of Death.

In Maiden Meditation, Fancy Free.

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

Like A Man Made After Supper Of A Cheese-paring: When A' Was Naked, He Was, For All The World, Like A Forked Radish, With A Head Fantastically Carved Upon It With A Knife.

She Moves Me Not, Or Not Removes At Least Affection's Edge In Me.

O Sleep! O Gentle Sleep! Nature's Soft Nurse, How Have I Frighted Thee, That Thou No More Wilt Weigh My Eyelids Down And Steep My Senses In Forgetfulness? Why Rather, Sleep, Liest Thou In Smoky Cribs, Upon Uneasy Pallets Stretching Thee, And Hush'd With Buzzing Night-flies To Thy Slumber, Than In The Perfum'd Chambers Of The Great, Under The Canopies Of Costly State, And Lull'd With Sound Of Sweetest Melody?

Temptation Is The Fire That Brings Up The Scum Of The Heart.

I Will Keep Where There Is Wit Stirring, And Leave The Faction Of Fools.

A True Repentance Shuns The Evil Itself, More Than The External Suffering Or The Shame.

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.

All That Glitters Is Not Gold.

Under The Colour Of Commending Him I Have Access My Own Love To Prefer; But Silvia Is Too Fair, Too True, Too Holy, To Be Corrupted With My Worthless Gifts.

My Will Enkindled By Mine Eyes And Ears, Two Traded Pilots 'twixt The Dangerous Shores Of Will And Judgment.

Bosom Upon My Counsel; You'll Find It Wholesome.

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

I Do I Know Not What, And Fear To Find Mine Eye Too Great A Flatterer For My Mind. Fate, Show Thy Force. Ourselves We Do Not Owe. What Is Decreed Must Be; And Be This So.

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

Is This A Dagger Which I See Before Me, The Handle Toward My Hand?

Thy Food Is Such As Hath Been Belch'd On By Infected Lungs.

I Praise God For You, Sir: Your Reasons At Dinner Have Been Sharp And Sententious; Pleasant Without Scurrility, Witty Without Affectation, Audacious Without Impudency, Learned Without Opinion, And Strange With-out Heresy.

Good Counselors Lack No Clients.

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

There Is Not One Wise Man In Twenty That Will Praise Himself.

True Apothecary Thy Drugs Art Quick

Mirth Cannot Move A Soul In Agony.

Season Your Admiration For A While.

He That Is Giddy Thinks The World Turns Round.

Nature Her Custom Holds, Let Shame Say What It Will.

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

And Thou, All-shaking Thunder, Strike Flat The Thick Rotundity O' The World! Crack Nature's Moulds, All Germens Spill At Once That Makes Ingrateful Man!

Farewell! A Long Farewell To All My Greatness!

But Most It Is Presumption In Us When The Help Of Heaven We Count The Act Of Men.

How My Achievements Mock Me!

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.

Make Passionate My Sense Of Hearing.

Good Night, Good Night! Parting Is Such Sweet Sorrow, That I Shall Say Good Night Till It Be Morrow.

The Devil Knew What He Did When He Made Men Politic; He Crossed Himself By It.

Adversity Makes Strange Bedfellows.

Strange Bedfellows

Be To Yourself As You Would To Your Friend.

The Sudden Hand Of Death Close Up Mine Eye!

For Brutus, As You Know, Was Caesar's Angel: Judge, O You Gods, How Dearly Caesar Loved Him! This Was The Most Unkindest Cut Of All

Time's The King Of Men; He's Both Their Parent, And He Is Their Grave, And Gives Them What He Will, Not What They Crave.

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 Had Rather Be A Dog, And Bay The Moon, Than Such A Roman.

Every Cloud Engenders Not A Storm.

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

The Coward Dies A Thousand Deaths, The Valiant, Only Once!

It Provokes The Desire But It Takes Away The Performance. Therefore Much Drink May Be Said To Be An Equivocator With Lechery: It Makes Him And It Mars Him; It Sets Him On And It Takes Him Off.

Thou Detestable Maw, Thou Womb Of Death.

Romeo And Juliet Play

Evermore Thanks, The Exchequer Of The Poor

An Old Black Ram Is Tupping Your White Ewe

His Heart As Far From Fraud As Heaven From Earth.

If You Would Persuade, You Must Appeal To Interest Rather Than Intellect. We Are Advertis'd By Our Loving Friends.

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.

I Cannot Be A Man With Wishing, Therefore I Will Die A Woman With Grieving.

Hamlet [...] We Fat All Creatures Else To Fat Us, And We Fat Ourselves For Maggots. Your Fat King And Your Lean Beggar Is But Variable Service, Two Dishes, But To One Table; That's The End. Claudius Alas, Alas. Hamlet A Man May Fish With The Worm That Hath Eat Of A King, And Eat Of The Fish That Hath Fed Of That Worm. Claudius What Dost Thou Mean By This? Hamlet Nothing But To Show You How A King May Go A Progress Through The Guts Of A Beggar.

Demetrius: Villain, What Hast Thou Done? Aaron: That Which Thou Canst Not Undo. Chiron: Thou Hast Undone Our Mother. Aaron: Villain, I Have Done Thy Mother.

Be Still Prepared For Death: And Death Or Life Shall Thereby Be The Sweeter.

Winding Up Days With Toil And Nights With Sleep.

Now, Good Digestion Wait On Appetite, And Health On Both!

He That Hath A Beard Is More Than A Youth, And He That Hath No Beard Is Less Than A Man. He That Is More Than A Youth Is Not For Me, And He That Is Less Than A Man, I Am Not For Him.

And His Unkindness May Defeat My Life, But Never Taint My Love.

When A Father Gives To His Son, Both Laugh; When A Son Gives To His Father, Both Cry.

My Long Sickness Of Health And Living Now Begins To Mend, And Nothing Brings Me All Things.

There Is A Law In Each Well-ordered Nation To Curb Those Raging Appetites That Are Most Disobedient And Refractory.

I See That The Fashion Wears Out More Apparel Than The Man.

Hell Is Empty And All The Devils Are Here.

Have Patience, And Endure

This Act Is An Ancient Tale New Told; And, In The Last Repeating, Troublesome, Being Urged At A Time Unseasonable.

We Will Have Rings And Things And Fine Array

Taming Of The Shrew

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

To Have Seen Much And To Have Nothing Is To Have Rich Eyes And Poor Hands.

I Am Indeed Not Her Fool, But Her Corrupter Of Words. (act Iii, Sc. I, 37-38)

Twelfth Night Important

Romeo: I Dreamt A Dream Tonight. Mercutio: And So Did I. Romeo: Well, What Was Yours? Mercutio: That Dreamers Often Lie. Romeo: In Bed Asleep While They Do Dream Things True.

The Lunatic, The Lover, And The Poet, Are Of Imagination All Compact.

Imagination Creativity

It Is My Lady! *sighs* O, It Is My Love! O, That She Knew She Were! She Speaks, Yet She Sais Nothing. What Of That? Her Eye Discourses; I Will Answer It. I Am Too Bold, 'tis Not To Me She Speaks; Two Of The Fairest Stars In All The Heaven, Having Some Business, Do Entreat Her Eyes To Twinkle In Their Spheres Till They Return.

I Rather Would Entreat Thy Company; To See The Wonders Of The World Abroad, Than, Living Dully Sluggardized At Home, Wear Out Thy Youth With Shapeless Idleness.

Let No Such Man Be Trusted.

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.

Hath Romeo Slain Himself? Say Thou But Ay, And That Bare Vowel Ay Shall Poison More Than The Death-darting Eye Of Cockatrice. I Am Not I,if There Be Such An Ay, Or Those Eyes Shut,that Make Thee Answer Ay: If He Be Slain Say Ay,or If Not,no: Brief Sounds,determine Of My Weal Or Woe.

More Of Your Conversation Would Infect My Brain.

Thou Art Thy Mother's Glass, And She In Thee Calls Back The Lovely April Of Her Prime...

I Understand Thy Kisses, And Thou Mine, And That's A Feeling Disputation.

There's Beggary In Love That Can Be Reckoned

Give Thanks For What You Are Today And Go On Fighting For What You Gone Be Tomorrow

Thou Hast Seen A Farmer's Dog Bark At A Beggar? And The Creature Run From The Cur. There Thou Mightst Behold The Great Image Of Authority-a Dog's Obeyed In Office.

Allow Not Nature More Than Nature Needs.

Time Hath Not Yet So Dried This Blood Of Mine, Nor Age So Eat Up My Invention, Nor Fortune Made Such Havoc Of My Means, Nor My Bad Life Reft Me So Much Of Friends, But They Shall Find Awaked In Such A Kind Both Strength Of Limb And Policy Of Mind, Ability In Means, And Choice Of Friends, To Quit Me Of Them Throughly.

Justice Always Whirls In Equal Measure.

Treason And Murder Ever Kept Together, As Two Yoke-devils Sworn To Either's Purpose, Working So Grossly In A Natural Cause That Admiration Did Not Whoop At Them; But Thou, 'gainst All Proportion, Didst Bring In Wonder To Wait On Treason And On Murder; And Whatsoever Cunning Fiend It Was That Wrought Upon Thee So Preposterously Hath Got The Voice In Hell For Excellence.

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

For I Am Proverbed With A Grandsire Phrase.

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.

Thy Wit Is A Very Bitter Sweeting; It Is A Most Sharp Sauce.

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.

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

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