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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.

-William Shakespeare

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Thus Play I In

William Shakespeare

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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.

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Too Much Of Water Hast Thou, Poor Ophelia, And Therefore I Forbid My Tears.

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

The Dullness Of The Fool Is The Whetstone Of The Wits.

O, Here Will I Set Up My Everlasting Rest And Shake The Yoke Of Inauspicious Stars From The World-wearied Flesh

What Is A Man, If His Chief Good And Market Of His Time Be But To Sleep And Feed? A Beast, No More.

You Have Dancing Shoes With Nimble Soles. I Have A Soul Of Lead.

Sweets With Sweets War Not, Joy Delights In Joy.

They Told Me I Was Everything. 'tis A Lie, I Am Not Ague-proof.

Friendship Is Constant In All Other Things Save In The Office And Affairs Of Love. Therefore All Hearts In Love Use Their Own Tongues. Let Every Eye Negotiate For Itself, And Trust No Agent; For Beauty Is A Witch Against Whose Charms Faith Melteth Into Blood.

Full Of Wise Saws And Modern Instances.

A Golden Mind Stoops Not To Shows Of Dross.

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

What Is Thy Sentence Then But Speechless Death.

Summer's Lease Hath All Too Short A Date.

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.

Love Is The Greatest Of Dreams, Yet The Worst Of Nightmares.

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

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

Courage Mounteth With Occasion.

If She Be Not Honest, Chaste, And True, There's No Man Happy.

Un-thread The Rude Eye Of Rebellion, And Welcome Home Again Discarded Faith.

Love Is A Smoke Rais'd With The Fume Of Sighs; Being Purg'd, A Fire Sparkling In Lovers' Eyes; Being Vex'd, A Sea Nourish'd With Lovers' Tears; What Is It Else? A Madness Most Discreet, A Choking Gall, And A Preserving Sweet.

But Virtue Never Will Be Mov'd, Though Lewdness Court It In A Shape Of Heaven.

Frailty, Thy Name Is Woman!

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.

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

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?

Poor And Content Is Rich, And Rich Enough.

And Do So, Love, Yet When They Have Devised What Strainèd Touches Rhetoric Can Lend, Thou, Truly Fair, Wert Truly Sympathized In True Plain Words By Thy True-telling Friend; And Their Gross Painting Might Be Better Used Where Cheeks Need Blood; In Thee It Is Abused.

The Gods Are Deaf To Hot And Peevish Vows. They Are Polluted Off'rings, More Abhorred! Than Spotted Livers In The Sacrifice.

Upon Thy Cheek I Lay This Zealous Kiss, As Seal To The Indenture Of My Love.

Like The Lily That Once Was Mistress Of The Field And Flourished, I'll Hang My Head And Perish.

I Hold The World But As The World, Gratiano; A Stage Where Every Man Must Play A Part, And Mine Is A Sad One.

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

And Nothing Can We Call Our Own But Death And That Small Model Of The Barren Earth Which Serves As Paste And Cover To Our Bones. For God's Sake, Let Us Sit Upon The Ground And Tell Sad Stories Of The Death Of Kings.

Lay Her I' The Earth: And From Her Fair And Unpolluted Flesh May Violets Spring! I Tell Thee, Churlish Priest, A Ministering Angel Shall My Sister Be, When Thou Liest Howling. Hamlet. What, The Fair Ophelia! Queen Gertrude. Sweets To The Sweet: Farewell!

He Hath A Heart As Sound As A Bell, And His Tongue Is The Clapper; For What His Heart Thinks His Tongue Speaks.

Fair Thoughts And Happy Hours Attend On You.

Fortune Brings In Some Boats That Are Not Steered.

The Man That Hath No Music In Himself, Nor Is Not Moved With Concord Of Sweet Sounds, Is Fit For Treasons, Stratagems And Spoils.

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!

Weed Your Better Judgments Of All Opinion That Grows Rank In Them.

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

However Wickedness Outstrips Men, It Has No Wings To Fly From God.

Dreams Are The Children Of Idled Minds.

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

A Jest's Prosperity Lies In The Ear Of Him That Hears It, Never In The Tongue Of Him That Makes It.

Beware Of Entrance To A Quarrel.

Give Me That Man That Is Not Passion's Slave, And I Will Wear Him In My Heart's Core, In My Heart Of Heart, As I Do Thee.

I Will Chide No Breather In The World But Myself, Against Whom I Know Most Faults.

Within The Hollow Crown That Rounds The Mortal Temples Of A King Keeps Death His Court.

The Sense Of Death Is Most In Apprehension, And The Poor Beetle, That We Tread Upon, In Corporal Sufferance Finds A Pang As Great As When A Giant Dies.

I Am Sir Oracle, And When I Ope My Lips, Let No Dog Bark.

Diseased Nature Oftentimes Breaks Forth In Strange Eruptions.

England Is Safe, If True Within Itself.

Farewell! God Knows When We Shall Meet Again.

Men Judge By The Complexion Of The Sky The State And Inclination Of The Day.

Get Thee To A Nunnery.

At Once, Good Night- Stand Not Upon The Order Of Your Going, But Go At Once.

... And Death Unloads Thee.

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

Let's Take The Instant By The Forward Top; For We Are Old, And On Our Quick'st Decrees The Inaudible And Noiseless Foot Of Time Steals Ere We Can Effect Them.

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

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

If It Be A Sin To Covet Honor, I Am The Most Offending Soul.

He Hath Eaten Me Out Of House And Home.

Nothing Is So Common As The Wish To Be Remarkable.(attributed To)

Never; He Will Not: Age Cannot Wither Her, Nor Custom Stale Her Infinite Variety: Other Women Cloy The Appetites They Feed: But She Makes Hungry Where Most She Satisfies.

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.

The Moon Of Rome, Chaste As The Icicle That's Curded By The Frost From Purest Snow.

Is Love A Tender Thing? It Is Too Rough, Too Rude, Too Boisterous, And It Pricks Like Thorn.

Tis Beauty That Doth Oft Make Women Proud; But, God He Knows, Thy Share Thereof Is Small.

The Most Peaceable Way For You, If You Do Take A Thief, Is, To Let Him Show Himself What He Is And Steal Out Of Your Company.

When Most I Wink, Then Do My Eyes Best See

For I Am He Am Born To Tame You, Kate; And Bring You From A Wild Kate To A Kate Conformable As Other Household Kates.

When The Sea Was Calm All Ships Alike Showed Mastership In Floating.

Hang Him, Swaggering Rascal!

His Neigh Is Like The Bidding Of A Monarch, And His Countenance Enforces Homage. He Is Indeed A Horse.

Trust Not Your Daughter's Minds By What You See Them Act.

I Am A Subject, And I Challenge Law. Attorneys Are Denied Me, And Therefore Personally I Lay My Claim To My Inheritance Of Free Descent.

One Woman Is Fair, Yet I Am Well; Another Is Wise, Yet I Am Well; Another Virtuous, Yet I Am Well; But Till All Graces Be In One Woman, One Woman Shall Not Come In My Grace.

Nothing Routs Us But The Villainy Of Our Fears.

To Be Furious, Is To Be Frighted Out Of Fear.

Tis A Blushing Shame-faced Spirit That Mutinies In A Man's Bosom. It Fills A Man Full Of Obstacles. It Made Me Once Restore A Purse Of Gold That (by Chance) I Found. It Beggars Any Man That Keeps It.

Oh, She Doth Teach The Torches To Burn Bright!

Shall Remain! Hear You This Triton Of The Minnows? Mark You His Absolute 'shall'?

Love Is Blind, It Stops Lovers Seeing The Silly Things They Do.

One Fire Burns Out Another's Burning, One Pain Is Lessen'd By Another's Anguish.

Use Every Man According To His Desert And Who Should 'scape Whipping? Use Them After Your Own Honor And Dignity, The Less They Deserve ... The More Merit In Your Bounty.

Comets Importing Change Of Times And States, Brandish Your Crystal Tresses In The Sky And With Them Scourge The Bad Revolting Stars.

There's Place And Means For Every Man Alive.

That Is My Home Of Love: If I Have Ranged, Like Him That Travels I Return Again, Just To The Time, Not With The Time Exchanged.

I Wonder Men Dare Trust Themselves With Men.

Which Can Say More Than This Rich Praise, That You Alone Are You?

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

Highly Fed And Lowly Taught.

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

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

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

Seems," Madam? Nay, It Is; I Know Not "seems." 'tis Not Alone My Inky Cloak, Good Mother, Nor Customary Suits Of Solemn Black, Nor Windy Suspiration Of Forced Breath, No, Nor The Fruitful River In The Eye, Nor The Dejected 'havior Of The Visage, Together With All Forms, Moods, Shapes Of Grief, That Can Denote Me Truly: These Indeed Seem, For They Are Actions That A Man Might Play: But I Have That Within Which Passeth Show; These But The Trappings And The Suits Of Woe.

The Wildest Hath Not Such A Heart As You. Run When You Will, The Story Shall Be Changed: Apollo Flies, And Daphne Holds The Chase; The Dove Pursues The Griffin; The Mild Hind Makes Speed To Catch The Tiger; Bootless Speed, When Cowardice Pursues And Valour Flies.

A Very Scurvy Fellow.

O Madam, My Old Heart Is Cracked, It's Cracked!

Charity Itself Fulfills The Law. And Who Can Sever Love From Charity?

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

This Thought Is As A Death.

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

Tis But A Base, Ignoble Mind That Mounts No Higher Than A Bird Can Soar.

He That Is Robbed, Not Wanting What Is Stolen, Him Not Know T, And He's Not Robbed At All.

Crime And Criminals

Would I Were Dead, If God's Good Will Were So, For What Is In This World But Grief And Woe?

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

Were It My Cue To Fight, I Should Have Known It Without A Prompter.

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

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

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.

Alack, The Night Comes On, And The Bleak Winds Do Sorely Ruffle; For Many Miles About There's Scarce A Bush.

I Will Make Thee Think Thy Swan A Crow.

You Peasant Swain! You Whoreson Malt-horse Drudge!

See What A Ready Tongue Suspicion Hath!

Friendship Is Constant In All Other Things, Save In The Office And Affairs Of Love.

Be Not Afeard; The Isle Is Full Of Noises.

Then Come Kiss Me, Sweet And Twenty.

...lest Too Light Winning Make The Prize Light.

It Is A Familiar Beast To Man, And Signifies Love.

Inconstancy Falls Off Ere It Begins.

Such Tricks Hath Strong Imagination, That, If It Would But Apprehend Some Joy, It Comprehends Some Bringer Of That Joy; Or In The Night, Imagining Some Fear, How Easy Is A Bush Supposed A Bear!

Like One Who Having Into Truth, By Telling Of It, Made Such A Sinner Of His Memory, To Credit His Own Lie.

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

My Father's Wit, And My Mother's Tongue, Assist Me!

Though Music Oft Hath Such A Charm To Make Bad Good, And Good Provoke To Harm.

The Eagle Suffers Little Birds To Sing, And Is Not Careful What They Mean Thereby, Knowing That With The Shadow Of His Wings He Can At Pleasure Stint Their Melody: Even So Mayest Thou The Giddy Men Of Rome.

These Are The Forgeries Of Jealousy; And Never, Since The Middle Summer's Spring, Met We On Hill, In Dale, Forest, Or Mead, By Paved Fountain Or By Rushy Brook, Or In The Beached Margent Of The Sea, To Dance Our Ringlets To The Whistling Wind, But With Thy Brawls Thou Hast Disturbed Our Sport.

Give Me My Robe, Put On My Crown; I Have Immortal Longings In Me.

Your "if" Is The Only Peacemaker; Much Virtue In "if.

Gold Were As Good As Twenty Orators.

Ornament Is But The Guiled Shore To A Most Dangerous Sea.

Men Have Marble, Women Waxen, Minds.

Virtue And Genuine Graces In Themselves Speak What No Words Can Utter.

They That Touch Pitch Will Be Defiled.

Let No Such Man Be Trusted.

Where Every Something, Being Blent Together Turns To A Wild Of Nothing.

The Native Hue Of Resolution Is Sicklied O'er With The Pale Cast Of Thought; And Enterprises Of Great Pitch And Moment, With This Regard, Their Currents Turn Awry, And Lose The Name Of Action.

Hamlet And Ophelia

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

Now He'll Outstare The Lightning. To Be Furious Is To Be Frightened Out Of Fear.

How Soar Sweet Music Is, When Time Is Broke, And No Proportion Kept!

The Wound Of Peace Is Surety, Surety Secure; But Modest Doubt Is Called The Beacon Of The Wise, The Tent That Searches To Th' Bottom Of The Worst.

For It Falls Out That What We Have We Prize Not To The Worth Whiles We Enjoy It, But Being Lacked And Lost, Why, Then We Rack The Value, Then We Find The Virtue That Possession Would Not Show Us While It Was Ours.

See First That The Design Is Wise And Just: That Ascertained, Pursue It Resolutely; Do Not For One Repulse Forego The Purpose That You Resolved To Effect.

The Band That Seems To Tie Their Friendship Together Will Be The Very Strangler Of Their Amity.

Guiltiness Will Speak, Though Tongues Were Out Of Use

Ingratitude Is Monstrous; And For The Multitude To Be Ingrateful Were To Make A Monster Of The Multitude; Of Which We Being Members, Should Bring Ourselves To Be Monstrous Members.

The Big Round Tears Cours'd One Another Down His Innocent Nose, In Piteous Chase.

The Weary Sun Hath Made A Golden Set And By The Bright Tract Of His Fiery Car Gives Token Of A Goodly Day To-morrow.

[thine] Face Is Not Worth Sunburning.

The Peace Of Heaven Is Theirs That Lift Their Swords, In Such A Just And Charitable War.

If She Be Fair And Wise, Fairness And Wit, The One's For Use, The Other Useth It.

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.

This Fell Sergeant, Death, Is Strict In His Arrest.

In God's Name Cheerly On, Courageous Friends, To Reap The Harvest Of Perpetual Peace By This One Bloody Trial Of Sharp War.

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

He Knows What It's Like To Strut And Fret His Hour Upon The Stage And Then Be Heard No More.

If One Good Deed In All My Life I Did, I Do Repent It From My Very Soul.

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!

I'll Look To Like; If Looking, Liking Move.

O For A Muse Of Fire, That Would Ascend The Brightest Heaven Of Invention, A Kingdom For A Stage, Princes To Act And Monarchs To Behold The Swelling Scene!

Commit The Oldest Sins The Newest Kind Of Ways.

Thou Lump Of Foul Deformity!

Awake, Awake, English Nobility! Let Not Sloth Dim Your Horrors New-begot.

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

I Know A Lady In Venice Would Have Walked Barefoot To Palestine For A Touch Of His Nether Lip

In A False Quarrel There Is No True Valor.

This Cold Night Will Turn Us All To Fools And Madmen.

When Rich Villains Have Need Of Poor Ones, Poor Ones May Make What Price They Will

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.

Who Is Silvia What Is She, That All Our Swains Commend Her Holy, Fair, And Wise Is She.

The Devil Can Cite Scripture For His Purpose.

This Is The Short And The Long Of It.

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

Time Is The King Of Men.

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

Faint Heart Never Won Fair Maid.

Men That Hazard All Do It In Hope Of Fair Advantages: A Golden Mind Stoops Not To Shows Of Dross.

A Countenance More In Sorrow Than In Anger.

Those That Much Covet Are With Gain So Fond, For What They Have Not, That Which They Possess They Scatter And Unloose It From Their Bond, And So, By Hoping More, They Have But Less; Or, Gaining More, The Profit Of Excess Is But To Surfeit, And Such Griefs Sustain, That They Prove Bankrupt In This Poor-rich Gain.

Wait For The Season When To Cast Good Counsels Upon Subsiding Passion.

Virtue Is Bold, And Goodness Never Fearful.

I Wonder That You Will Still Be Talking. Nobody Marks You.

Divers Philosophers Hold That The Lips Is Parcel Of The Mouth.

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

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

Constant You Are, But Yet A Woman; And For Secrecy, No Lady Closer; For I Well Believe Thou Wilt Not Utter What Thou Dost Not Know.

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

Nay, Had I Pow'r, I Should Pour The Sweet Milk Of Concord Into Hell, Uproar The Universal Peace, Confound All Unity On Earth.

Thou Art All The Comfort, The Gods Will Diet Me With.

Mirth Cannot Move A Soul In Agony.

Remuneration! O! That's The Latin Word For Three Farthings

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.

O God, I Could Be Bound In A Nutshell, And Count Myself A King Of Infinite Space – Were It Not That I Have Bad Dreams.

The Gaudy, Blabbing, And Remorseful Day Is Crept Into The Bosom Of The Sea.

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