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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.

-William Shakespeare

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Well, Heaven Forgive Him!

William Shakespeare

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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.

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Who Soars Too Near The Sun, With Golden Wings, Melts Them.

Beauty Is But A Vain And Doubtful Good; A Shining Gloss That Fadeth Suddenly; A Flower That Dies When It Begins To Bud; A Doubtful Good, A Gloss, A Glass, A Flower, Lost, Faded, Broken, Dead Within An Hour.

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

These Earthly Godfathers Of Heaven's Lights, That Give A Name To Every Fixed Star, Have No More Profit Of Their Shining Nights Than Those That Walk And Know Not What They Are.

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

Within The Book And Volume Of Thy Brain.

What: Is The Jay More Precious Than The Lark Because His Feathers Are More Beautiful?

Men Have Marble, Women Waxen, Minds.

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

See How She Leans Her Cheek Upon Her Hand. O, That I Were A Glove Upon That Hand That I Might Touch That Cheek!

Base Men Being In Love Have Then A Nobility In Their Natures More Than Is Native To Them.

The Sun With One Eye Vieweth All The World.

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.

A Woman Would Run Through Fire And Water For Such A Kind Heart.

How Sweet The Moonlight Sleeps Upon This Bank! Here Will We Sit, And Let The Sounds Of Music Creep In Our Ears; Soft Stillness And The Night Become The Touches Of Sweet Harmony. Sit, Jessica: Look, How The Floor Of Heaven Is Thick Inlaid With Patines Of Bright Gold; There's Not The Smallest Orb Which Thou Behold'st But In His Motion Like An Angel Sings, Still Quiring To The Young-eyed Cherubins. Such Harmony Is In Immortal Souls; But Whilst This Muddy Vesture Of Decay Doth Grossly Close It In, We Cannot Hear It.

We Must Follow, Not Force Providence.

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

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

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-swollen Face?

Thou Lump Of Foul Deformity!

... And Death Unloads Thee.

Before Thee Stands This Fair Hesperides, With Golden Fruit, But Dangerous To Be Touched; For Death-like Dragons Here Affright Thee Hard.

I, Measuring His Affections By My Own, Which Then Most Sought Where Most Might Not Be Found, Being One Too Many By My Weary Self, Pursued My Humor Not Pursuing His, And Gladly Shunned Who Gladly Fled From Me.

O King, Believe Not This Hard-hearted Man!

Before The Curing Of A Strong Disease, Even In The Instant Of Repair And Health, The Fit Is Strongest. Evils That Take Leave, On Their Departure Most Of All Show Evil.

Titus Andronicus, My Lord The Emperor Sends Thee This Word, That, If Thou Love Thy Sons, Let Marcus, Lucius, Or Thyself, Old Titus, Or Any One Of You, Chop Off Your Hand And Send It To The King: He For The Same Will Send Thee Hither Both Thy Sons Alive, And That Shall Be The Ransom For Their Fault.

Something Is Rotten In The State Of Denmark.

Disease And Death

Dead Shepherd, Now I Find Thy Saw Of Might. Whoever Lov'd That Lov'd Not At First Sight.

Love Thyself Last, Cherish Those Hearts That Hate Thee; Corruption Wins Not More Than Honesty.

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

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

Orpheus With His Lute Made Trees, And The Mountain Tops That Freeze, Bow Themselves, When He Did Sing; To His Music, Plants And Flowers Ever Sprung; As Sun And Showers There Had Made A Lasting Spring. Every Thing That Heard Him Play, Even The Billows Of The Sea, Hung Their Heads, And Then Lay By. In Sweet Music Is Such Art, Killing Care And Grief Of Heart Fall Asleep, Or Hearing, Die.

Can I Go Forward When My Heart Is Here? Turn Back, Dull Earth, And Find Thy Centre Out.

She Dreams Of Him That Has Forgot Her Love; You Dote On Her That Cares Not For Your Love. 'tis Pity Love Should Be So Contrary; And Thinking Of It Makes Me Cry 'alas!

Strong Reasons Make Strong Actions Let Us Go If You Say Ay, The King Will Not Say No.

Have Patience, And Endure

He That Dies This Year Is Quit For The Next.

Be Lion-mettled, Proud, And Take No Care Who Chafes, Who Frets, Or Where Conspirers Are!

The Smallest Worm Will Turn Being Trodden On, And Doves Will Peck In Safeguard Of Their Brood.

O, It Is Excellent To Have A Giant's Strength; But It Is Tyrannous To Use It Like A Giant.

The Love Of Heaven Makes One Heavenly.

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

I Know Them, Yea, And What They Weigh, Even To The Utmost Scruple; Scambling, Out-facing, Fashion-mong'ring Boys, That Lie, And Cog, And Flout, Deprave, And Slander, Go Antickly, And Show Outward Hideousness, And Speak Off Half A Dozen Dangerous Words, How They Might Hurt Their Enemies, If They Durst; And This Is All.

Tis No Sin For A Man To Labor In His Vocation.

Hast Any Philosophy In Thee Shepherd? .• • • • . . . He That Wants Money, Means And Content, Is Without Three Good Friends; That The Property Of Rain Is To Wet And Fire To Burn; That Good Pasture Makes Fat Sheep, And A Great Cause Of The Night Is Lack Of The Sun; That He That Hath Learned No Wit By Nature Nor Art May Complain Of Good Breeding Or Comes Of A Very Dull Kindred.

Through Tattered Clothes Great Vices Do Appear; Robes And Furred Gowns Hide All. Plate Sin With Gold And The Strong Lance Of Justice Hurtless Breaks. Arm It In Rags, A Pigmy's Straw Does Pierce It.

My Crown Is In My Heart, Not On My Head; Not Decked With Diamonds And Indian Stones, Nor To Be Seen: My Crown Is Called Content, A Crown It Is That Seldom Kings Enjoy.

O Romeo, Romeo! Wherefore Art Thou Romeo? Deny Thy Father And Refuse Thy Name; Or, If Thou Wilt Not, Be But Sworn My Love... 'tis But Thy Name That Is My Enemy; What's In A Name? That Which We Call A Rose By Any Other Name Would Smell As Sweet.

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

An Honest Man, Sir, Is Able To Speak For Himself, When A Knave Is Not.

What A Fool Honesty Is.

A Man May See How This World Goes With No Eyes. Look With Thine Ears: See How Yond Justice Rails Upon Yon Simple Thief. Hark, In Thine Ear: Change Places; And, Handy-dandy, Which Is The Justice, Which Is The Thief?

Light Boats Sail Swift, Though Greater Hulks Draw Deep.

Ambition's Debt Is Paid.

We Are Such Stuff As Dreams Are Made On; And Our Little Life Is Rounded With A Sleep.

This Sleep Is Sound Indeed; This Is A Sleep That From This Golden Rigol Hath Divorc'd So Many English Kings.

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

Many Dream Not To Find, Neither Deserve, And Yet Are Steeped In Favors.

Who Knows Himself A Braggart, Let Him Fear This; For It Will Come To Pass That Every Braggart Will Be Found An Ass.

Ere Yet The Salt Of Most Unrighteous Tears Had Left The Flushing Of Her Gallèd Eyes, She Married. O, Most Wicked Speed, To Post With Such Dexterity To Incestuous Sheets!

But I Will Wear My Heart Upon My Sleeve For Daws To Peck At: I Am Not What I Am.

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

Prepare For Mirth, For Mirth Becomes A Feast.

I'll Forbear; And Am Fallen Out With My More Headier Will To Take The Indisposed And Sickly Fit For The Sound Man.

True Apothecary Thy Drugs Art Quick

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.

God's Will! My Liege, Would You And I Alone, Without More Help, Could Fight This Royal Battle!

Fit For The Mountains And The Barbarous Caves, Where Manners Ne'er Were Preached.

I Have A Kind Soul That Would Give You Thanks. And Knows Not How To Do It But With Tears.

Pause Awhile, And Let My Counsel Sway You.

So Holy And So Perfect Is My Love, And I In Such A Poverty Of Grace, That I Shall Think It A Most Plenteous Crop To Glean The Broken Ears After The Man That The Main Harvest Reaps.

All's Well If All Ends Well.

What's To Come Is Still Unsure: In Delay There Lies No Plenty; Then Come Kiss Me, Sweet And Twenty, Youth's A Stuff Will Not Endure.

It Is Not Night When I Do See Your Face.

Crabbed Age And Youth Cannot Live Together; Youth Is Full Of Pleasure, Age Is Full Of Care; Youth Like Summer Morn, Age Like Winter Weather; Youth Like Summer Brave, Age Like Winter Bare. Youth Is Full 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, Age Is Tame. Age, I Do Abhor Thee; Youth, I Do Adore Thee.

Justice Always Whirls In Equal Measure.

The Web Of Our Life Is Of A Mingled Yarn, Good And Ill Together.

You Are My True And Honourable Wife; As Dear To Me As The Ruddy Drops That Visit My Sad Heart.

When Lenity And Cruelty Play For A Kingdom, The Gentler Gamester Is The Soonest Winner

An Earnest Conjuration From The King, As England Was His Faithful Tributary, As Love Between Them Like The Palm Might Flourish, As Peace Should Still Her Wheaten Garland Wear And Stand A Comma 'tween Their Amities, And Many Such-like As's Of Great Charge, That, On The View And Knowing Of These Contents, Without Debatement Further, More Or Less, He Should The Bearers Put To Sudden Death, Not Shriving Time Allow'd.

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

Appetite, A Universal Wolf.

A High Hope For A Low Heaven: God Grant Us Patience!

Pray, Love, Remember: And There Is Pansies, That's For Thoughts.

Hamlet And Ophelia

Courage And Comfort, All Shall Yet Go Well

Promising Is The Very Air O' The Time; It Opens The Eyes Of Expectation.

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

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.

The Even Mead, That Erst Brought Sweetly Forth The Freckled Cowslip, Burnet, And Green Clover, Wanting The Scythe, All Uncorrected, Rank, Conceives By Idleness, And Nothing Teems But Hateful Docks, Rough Thistles, Kecksies, Burrs, Losing Both Beauty And Utility.

Many Strokes, Though With A Little Axe, Hew Down And Fell The Hardest-timber'd Oak.

Good Morning To You, Fair And Gracious Daughter.

Despair And Die. The Ghosts

Mean And Mighty, Rotting Together, Have One Dust.

Flout 'em, And Scout 'em; And Scout 'em, And Flout 'em; / Thought Is Free.

Our Doubts Are Traitors And Make Us Lose The Good We Oft Might Win By Fearing To Attempt.

O, When She's Angry, She Is Keen And Shrewd! She Was A Vixen When She Went To School; And Though She Be But Little, She Is Fierce.

O Love, Be Moderate, Allay Thy Ecstasy, In Measure Rain Thy Joy, Scant This Excess!

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.

I Was Too Young That Time To Value Her, But Now I Know Her. If She Be A Traitor, Why, So Am I. We Still Have Slept Together, Rose At An Instant, Learned, Played, Eat Together, And Wheresoe'er We Went, Like Juno's Swans, Still We Went Coupled And Inseparable.

Never, Never, Never, Never, Never! Pray You, Undo This Button.

Our Holy Lives Must Win A New World's Crown.

Let's Meet As Little As We Can

Myself--a Prince By Fortune Of My Birth, Near To The King In Blood, And Near In Love Till You Did Make Him Misinterpret Me-- Have Stooped My Neck Under Your Injuries And Sighed My English Breath In Foreign Clouds, Eating The Bitter Bread Of Banishment, Whilst You Have Fed Upon My Signories, Disparked My Parks And Felled My Forest Woods, From My Own Windows Torn My Household Coat, Rased Out My Imprese, Leaving Me No Sign, Save Men's Opinions And My Living Blood, To Show The World I Am A Gentleman.

Now The Fair Goddess, Fortune, Fall Deep In Love With Thee, And Her Great Charms Misguide Thy Opposers' Swords!

Not From The Stars Do I My Judgement Pluck, And Yet Methinks I Have Astronomy. But Not To Tell Of Good Or Evil Luck, Of Plagues, Of Dearths, Or Season's Quality; Nor Can I Fortune To Brief Minutes Tell ... Or Say With Princes If It Shall Go Well.

Thou Art As Tyrannous, So As Thou Art, As Those Whose Beauties Proudly Make Them Cruel; For Well Thou Know'st To My Dear Doting Heart Thou Art The Fairest And Most Precious Jewel.

Let Me Be Boiled To Death With Melancholy.

The Weakest Kind Of Fruit Drops Earliest To The Ground.

Can I Go Forward When My Heart Is Here?

Romeo And Juliet Play

I Profess Not Talking: Only This, Let Each Man Do His Best.

For Such Things As You, I Can Scarce Think There's Any, Ye're So Slight.

Do You See Yonder Cloud That’s Almost In Shape Of A Camel? Polonius: By The Mass, And ‘tis Like A Camel, Indeed. Hamlet: Methinks It Is Like A Weasel. Polonius: It Is Backed Like A Weasel. Hamlet: Or Like A Whale? Polonius: Very Like A Whale.

I Am Afeard There Are Few Die Well That Die In Battle, For How Can They Charitably Dispose Of Anything When Blood Is Their Argument?

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

What, Shall One Of Us, That Struck For The Foremost Man Of All This World But For Supporting Robbers--shall We Now Contaminate Our Fingers With Base Bribes, And Sell The Mighty Space Of Our Large Honors For So Much Trash As May Be Grasped Thus?

Make Use Of Time, Let Not Advantage Slip.

For Honesty Coupled To Beauty, Is To Have Honey A Sauce To Sugar.

There's Hope A Great Man's Memory May Outlive His Life Half A Year.

Why, I Can Smile And Murder Whiles I Smile, And Cry 'content' To That Which Grieves My Heart, And Wet My Cheeks With Artificial Tears, And Frame My Face For All Occasions

This World Is Not For Aye, Nor 'tis Not Strange That Even Our Loves Should With Our Fortunes Change, For 'tis A Question Left Us Yet To Prove, Whether Love Lead Fortune, Or Else Fortune Love.

I And My Bosom Must Debate Awhile, And Then I Would No Other Company.

Art Thou Afeard To Be The Same In Thine Own Act And Valour As Thou Art In Desire? Wouldst Thou Have That Which Thou Esteem'st The Ornament Of Life, And Live A Coward In Thine Own Esteem, Letting 'i Dare Not' Wait Upon 'i Would,' Like The Poor Cat I' The Adage?

O God, That Men Should Put An Enemy In Their Mouths To Steal Away Their Brains!" - Cassio (act Ii, Scene Iii)

Ambition, The Soldier's Virtue, Rather Makes Choice Of Loss, Than Gain Which Darkens Him.

What, With My Tongue In Your Tail? Nay, Come Again, Good Kate; I Am A Gentleman.

But No Perfection Is So Absolute, That Some Impurity Doth Not Pollute.

This Fellow Pecks Up Wit, As Pigeons Peas; And Utters It Again When God Doth Please: He Is Wit's Pedler; And Retails His Wares.

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

Thou Dost Conspire Against Thy Friend, Iago, If Thou But Think'st Him Wronged, And Mak'st His Ear A Stranger To Thy Thoughts.

My Liege, And Madam, To Expostulate What Majesty Should Be, What Duty Is, Why Day Is Day, Night Night, And Time Is Time, Were Nothing But To Waste Night, Day And Time. Therefore, Since Brevity Is The Soul Of Wit, And Tediousness The Limbs And Outward Flourishes, I Will Be Brief.

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

Gloucester: Yet So Much Is My Poverty Of Spirit, So Mighty And So Many My Defects, As I Had Rather Hide Me From My Greatness, Being A Bark To Brook No Mighty Sea, Than In My Greatness Covet To Be Hid, And In The Vapour Of My Glory Smother'd. But God Be Thanked. . . .

Therefore I Tell My Sorrows To The Stones; Who, Though They Cannot Answer My Distress, Yet In Some Sort They Are Better Than The Tribunes, For That They Will Not Intercept My Tale: When I Do Weep, They Humbly At My Feet Receive My Tears And Seem To Weep With Me; And, Were They But Attired In Grave Weeds, Rome Could Afford No Tribune Like To These.

I Heard A Bustling Rumor Like A Fray, And The Wind Blows It From The Capitol.

Such Thanks As Fits A King's Remembrance.

Love Is Familiar. Love Is A Devil. There Is No Evil Angel But Love." -

Yet Who Would Have Thought The Old Man To Have Had So Much Blood In Him? - Lady Macbeth

I, Thus Neglecting Worldly Ends, All Dedicated To Closeness And The Bettering Of My Mind.

Out Of Her Favour, Where I Am In Love.

Romeo And Juliet Love

Good Name In Man And Woman, Dear My Lord, Is The Immediate Jewel Of Their Souls: Who Steals My Purse Steals Trash; ’tis Something, Nothing; ’twas Mine, ’tis His, And Has Been Slave To Thousands; But He That Filches From Me My Good Name Robs Me Of That Which Not Enriches Him, And Makes Me Poor Indeed.

You Have Witchcraft In Your Lips, There Is More Eloquence In A Sugar Touch Of Them Than In The Tongues Of The French Council; And They Should Sooner Persuade Harry Of England Than A General Petition Of Monarchs.

Most Dear Actors, Eat No Onions Nor Garlic, For We Are To Utter Sweet Breath.

Thou Whoreson, Senseless Villain!

Summer's Lease Hath All Too Short A Date.

A Good Old Man, Sir. He Will Be Talking. As They Say, When The Age Is In, The Wit Is Out.

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.

They Met So Near With Their Lips That Their Breaths Embraced Together.

How Hard It Is To Hide The Sparks Of Nature!

If I Can Catch Him Once Upon The Hip, I Will Feed Fat The Ancient Grudge I Bear Him.

Patch Up Thine Old Body For Heaven.

This Senior-junior, Giant-dwarf, Dan Cupid; Regent Of Love-rhymes, Lord Of Folded Arms, The Anointed Sovereign Of Sighs And Groans, Liege Of All Loiterers And Malcontents.

Thus Did I Keep My Person Fresh And New, My Presence, Like A Robe Pontifical, Ne'er Seen But Wondered At, And So My State, Seldom But Sumptuous, Showed Like A Feast.

First Witch He Knows Thy Thought: Hear His Speech, But Say Thou Nought.

I Love Thee, I Love Thee With A Love That Shall Not Die. Till The Sun Grows Cold And The Stars Grow Old.

The Jury Passing On The Prisoner's Life May In The Sworn Twelve Have A Thief Or Two Guiltier Than Him They Try.

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.

Glory Is Like A Circle In The Water

That's A Valiant Flea That Dares Eat His Breakfast On The Lip Of A Lion.

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

Twelfth Night Important

Experience Teacheth That Resolution Is A Sole Help In Need.

So Quick Bright Things Come To Confusion.

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?

The King's Name Is A Tower Of Strength.

Some There Be That Shadows Kiss; Such Have But A Shadow's Bliss.

These Times Of Woe Afford No Time To Woo.

The Ostentation Of Our Love, Which, Left Unshown, Is Often Left Unloved.

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

Love Is Heavy And Light, Bright And Dark, Hot And Cold, Sick And Healthy, Asleep And Awake- Its Everything Except What It Is! (act 1, Scene 1)

If't Be Summer News, Smile To't Before; If Winterly, Thou Need'st But Keep That Count'nance Still.

Cordelia! Stay A Little. Ha! What Is't Thou Say'st? Her Voice Was Ever Soft.

I Have Not Slept One Wink.

How Much Salt Water Thrown Away In Waste/ To Season Love, That Of It Doth Not Taste.

I Have Heard Of Some Kind Of Men That Put Quarrels Purposely On Others, To Taste Their Valor.

Fruits That Blossom First Will First Be Ripe.

We May Outrun By Violent Swiftness And Lose By Over-running.

There Are Occasions And Causes, Why And Wherefore In All Things.

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

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

The Seasons Change Their Manners, As The Year Had Found Some Months Asleep And Leapt Them Over.

For God's Sake, Let Us Sit Upon The Ground And Tell Sad Stories Of The Death Of Kings.

There's Neither Honesty, Manhood, Nor Good Fellowship In Thee.

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

Who Is So Firm That Can't Be Seduced?

Love Is A Smoke Raised With The Fume Of Sighs; Being Purged, A Fire Sparkling In Lovers' Eyes; Being Vexed, A Sea Nourished With Loving Tears. What Is It Else? A Madness Most Discreet, A Choking Gall, And A Preserving Sweet. *here’s What Love Is: A Smoke Made Out Of Lovers' Sighs. When The Smoke Clears, Love Is A Fire Burning In Your Lover’s Eyes. If You Frustrate Love, You Get An Ocean Made Out Of Lovers' Tears. What Else Is Love? It’s A Wise Form Of Madness. It’s A Sweet Lozenge That You Choke On.*

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

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

Care For Us! True, Indeed! They Ne'er Cared For Us Yet: Suffer Us To Famish, And Their Storehouses Crammed With Grain; Make Edicts For Usury, To Support Usurers; Repeal Daily Any Wholesome Act Established Against The Rich, And Provide More Piercing Statutes Daily To Chain Up And Restrain The Poor. If The Wars Eat Us Not Up, They Will; And There's All The Love They Bear Us.

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.

Reputation Is An Idle And Most False Imposition; Oft Got Without Merit, And Lost Without Deserving.

He Says, He Loves My Daughter; I Think So Too; For Never Gaz'd The Moon Upon The Water, As He'll Stand And Read, As 'twere, My Daughter's Eyes: And, To Be Plain, I Think, There Is Not Half A Kiss To Choose, Who Loves Another Best.

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?

To Be Slow In Words Is A Woman's Only Virtue.

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

The Attempt And Not The Deed Confounds Us.

Too Nice, And Yet Too True!

O, My Lord, You Said That Idle Weeds Are Fast In Growth: The Prince My Brother Hath Outgrown Me Far.

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

Faster Than Spring-time Showers Comes Thought On Thought.

But Thou, Contracted To Thine Own Bright Eyes, Feed'st Thy Light's Flame With Self-substantial Fuel, Making A Famine Where Abundance Lies, Thyself Thy Foe, To Thy Sweet Self Too Cruel.

I Am Indeed, Sir, A Surgeon To Old Shoes; When They Are In Great Danger I Recover Them.

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