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Why, I' Faith, Methinks She's Too Low For A High Praise, Too Brown For A Fair Praise And Too Little For A Great Praise: Only This Commendation I Can Afford Her, That Were She Other Than She Is, She Were Unhandsome; And Being No Other But As She Is, I Do Not Like Her. (benedick, From Much Ado About Nothing)

-William Shakespeare

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Why, I' Faith, Methinks

William Shakespeare

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Why, I' Faith, Methinks She's Too Low For A High Praise, Too Brown For A Fair Praise And Too Little For A Great Praise: Only This Commendation I Can Afford Her, That Were She Other Than She Is, She Were Unhandsome; And Being No Other But As She Is, I Do Not Like Her. (benedick, From Much Ado About Nothing)

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That Which In Mean Men We Entitle Patience Is Pale Cold Cowardice In Noble Breasts.

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And Keep You In The Rear Of Your Affection, Out Of The Shot And Danger Of Desire, The Chariest Maid Is Prodigal Enough If She Unmasks Her Beauty To The Moon.

O Fortune, Fortune! All Men Call Thee Fickle.

Knit Your Hearts With An Unslipping Knot.

Some Say That Ever 'gainst The Season Comes Wherein Our Saviour's Birth Is Celebrated, The Bird Of Dawning Singeth All Night Long: And Then, They Say, No Spirit Can Walk Abroad; The Nights Are Wholesome; Then No Planets Strike, No Fairy Takes, Nor Wi

To Be Generous, Guiltless, And Of A Free Disposition Is To Take Those Things For Bird-bolts That You Deem Cannon-bullets.

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

O Braggart Vile And Damned Furious Wight!

Taffeta Phrases, Silken Terms Precise, Three-piled Hyperboles, Spruce Affection, Figures Pedantical--these Summer Flies Have Blown Me Full Of Maggot Ostentation.

It Easeth Some, Though None It Ever Cured, To Think Their Dolour Others Have Endured.

As Good Luck Would Have It, Comes In One Mistress Page, Gives Intelligence Of Ford's Approach, And In Her Invention, And Ford's Wife's Distraction, They Conveyed Me Into A Buck-basket.

Swear Me, Kate, Like A Lady As Thou Art, A Good Mouth-filling Oath.

Ask God For Temp'rance. That's Th' Appliance Only Which Your Disease Requires.

Can It Be That Modesty May More Betray Our Sense Than Woman's Lightness? Having Waste Ground Enough, Shall We Desire To Raze The Sanctuary And Pitch Our Evils There?

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.

Inconstancy Falls Off Ere It Begins.

A Man I Am Cross'd With Adversity.

Who Can Be Patient In Extremes?

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

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

She Told Her, While She Kept It, 'twould Make Her Amiable And Subdue My Father Entirely To Her Love, But If She Lost It Or Made A Gift Of It, My Father's Eye Should Hold Her Loathed And His Spirits Should Hunt After New Fancies.

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

All Things That Are, Are With More Spirit Chased Than Enjoyed.

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Modest Doubt Is Called The Beacon Of The Wise.

For So Work The Honey Bees, Creatures That By A Rule In Nature Teach The Act Of Order To A Peopled Kingdom.

Is Man No More Than This? Consider Him Well. Thou Ow'st The Worm No Silk, The Beast No Hide, The Sheep No Wool, The Cat No Perfume. Here's Three On's Are Sophisticated. Thou Art The Thing Itself; Unaccommodated Man Is No More Than Such A Poor, Bare, Forked Animal As Thou Art.

Love Is My Sin, And Thy Dear Virtue Hate, Hate Of My Sin, Grounded On Sinful Loving.

We Few. We Happy Few. We Band Of Brothers, For He Today That Sheds His Blood With Me Shall Be My Brother.

We Do Not Keep The Outward Form Of Order, Where There Is Deep Disorder In The Mind.

I Will Make A Star-chamber Matter Of It.

The Eyes Are The Window To Your Soul

I Am A Kind Of Burr; I Shall Stick.

Like One Who Draws The Model Of A House Beyond His Power To Build It Who, Half Through, Gives O'er, And Leaves His Part-created Cost A Naked Subject To The Weeping Clouds.

He Must Needs Go That The Devil Drives.

The Will Is Deaf And Hears No Heedful Friends.

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.

Life's But A Walking Shadow, A Poor Player, That Struts And Frets His Hour Upon The Stage, And Then Is Heard No More; It Is A Tale Told By An Idiot, Full Of Sound And Fury, Signifying Nothing.

Away! Thou'rt Poison To My Blood.

So May The Outward Shows Be Least Themselves; The World Is Still Deceived With Ornament.

A Heavier Task Could Not Have Been Impos'd, Than I To Speak My Griefs Unspeakable.

Let No Such Man Be Trusted.

That Is Honor's Scorn Which Challenges Itself As Honor's Born And Is Not Like The Sire. Honors Thrive When Rather From Our Acts We Them Derive Than Our Foregoers.

Young Men's Love Then Lies Not Truly In Their Hearts, But In Their Eyes.

The Attempt And Not The Deed Confounds Us.

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

Let Not Our Babbling Dreams Affright Our Souls; Conscience Is But A Work That Cowards Use, Devised At First To Keep The Strong In Awe: Our Strong Arms Be Our Conscience, Swords Our Law!

O How Wretched Is That Poor Man That Hangs On Princes Favors! There Is Betwixt That Smile We Would Aspire To, That Sweet Aspect Of Princes, And Their Ruin, More Pangs And Fears Than Wars Or Women Have, And When He Falls, He Falls Like Lucifer, Never To Hope Again.

You Take My House When You Do Take The Prop That Doth Sustain My House; You Take My Life When You Do Take The Means Whereby I Live.

Unquiet Meals Make Ill Digestions.

Eating And Drinking

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.

Love Adds A Precious Seeing To The Eye.

O Sir, You Are Old; Nature In You Stands On The Very Verge Of Her Confine; You Should Be Ruled And Led By Some Discretion, That Discerns Your Fate Better Than You Yourself.

Against Self-slaughter There Is A Prohibition So Divine That Cravens My Weak Hand.

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By Heaven, I Love Thee Better Than Myself

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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?

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Well, Every One Can Master A Grief But He That Has It.

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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?

Do Not Spread The Compost On The Weeds.

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

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.

Tis Ever Common That Men Are Merriest When They Are From Home.

Then Was I As A Tree Whose Boughs Did Bend With Fruit; But In One Night, A Storm Or Robbery, Call It What You Will, Shook Down My Mellow Hangings, Nay, My Leaves, And Left Me Bare To Weather.

They Love Least That Let Men Know Their Loves.

I Wish You Well And So I Take My Leave, I Pray You Know Me When We Meet Again.

Is Not Birth, Beauty, Good Shape, Discourse, Manhood, Learning, Gentleness, Virtue, Youth, Liberality, And Such Like, The Spice And Salt That Season A Man

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The Gates Of Monarchs Are Arched So High That Giants May Jet Through And Keep Their Impious Turbans On Without Good Morrow To The Sun.

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

Positive Atheism

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Don't Trust The Person Who Has Broken Faith Once.

Golden Lads And Girls All Must As Chimney Sweepers Come To Dust.

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

As Love Is Full Of Unbefitting Strains, All Wanton As A Child, Skipping And Vain, Form'd By The Eye And Therefore, Like The Eye, Full Of Strange Shapes, Of Habits And Of Forms, Varying In Subjects As The Eye Doth Roll To Every Varied Object In His Glance

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

Heat Not A Furnace For Your Foe So Hot That It Do Singe Yourself.

Appetite, A Universal Wolf.

My Hands Are Of Your Color, But I Shame To Wear A Heart So White.

All Pity Choked With Custom Of Fell Deeds.

Though It Be Honest, It Is Never Good To Bring Bad News.

Base Is The Slave That Pays.

When Truth Kills Truth, O Devilish Holy Fray!

The Cunning Livery Of Hell.

Love Goes Toward Love.

How Oft The Sight Of Means To Do Ill Deeds Makes Ill Deeds Done!

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

His Jest Will Savour But Of Shallow Wit, When Thousands Weep, More Than Did Laugh At It.

The Quality Of Mercy Is Not Strain'd, It Droppeth As The Gentle Rain From Heaven Upon The Place Beneath: It Is Twice Blest; It Blesseth Him That Gives And Him That Takes: 'tis Mightiest In The Mightiest: It Becomes The Throned Monarch Better Than His Crown; His Sceptre Shows The Force Of Temporal Power, The Attribute To Awe And Majesty, Wherein Doth Sit The Dread And Fear Of Kings; But Mercy Is Above This Sceptred Sway; It Is Enthroned In The Hearts Of Kings, It Is An Attribute To God Himself; And Earthly Power Doth Then Show Likest God's When Mercy Seasons Justice.

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

Speak Low, If You Speak Love.

Many Can Brook The Weather That Love Not The Wind.

If You Can Look Into The Seeds Of Time, And Say Which Grain Will Grow And Which Will Not, Speak Then Unto Me.

All Offences Come From The Heart.

The Very Substance Of The Ambitious Is Merely The Shadow Of A Dream.

This Above All; To Thine Own Self Be True.

Farewell! God Knows When We Shall Meet Again.

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I Can No Longer Live By Thinking.

Think, When We Talk Of Horses, That You See Them Printing Their Proud Hoofs I' The Receiving Earth.

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

Take Her Away; For She Hath Lived Too Long, To Fill The World With Vicious Qualities.

Hear My Soul Speak. Of The Very Instant That I Saw You, Did My Heart Fly At Your Service

Be Just, And Fear Not. Let All The Ends Thou Aim'st At Be Thy Country's, Thy God's And Truth's.

But Wherefore Could Not I Pronounce 'amen'? I Had Most Need Of Blessing, And 'amen' Stuck In My Throat.

Then Is It Sin To Rush Into The Secret House Of Death. Ere Death Dare Come To Us?

As Chaste As Is The Bud Ere It Be Blown.

Thou Weedy Elf-skinned Canker-blossom!

Hal, If I Tell Thee A Lie, Spit In My Face, Call Me Horse.

Love, Therefore, And Tongue-tied Simplicity In Least Speak Most, To My Capacity.

At This Hour Lie At My Mercy All Mine Enemies.

His Heart As Far From Fraud As Heaven From Earth.

Gives Not The Hawthorn Bush A Sweeter Shade To Shepherds, Looking On Their Silly Sheep, Than Doth A Rich Embroider'd Canopy To Kings That Fear Their Subjects Treachery?

What Man Art Thou That, Thus Bescreened In Night, So Stumblest On My Counsel? *who Are You? Why Do You Hide In The Darkness And Listen To My Private Thoughts?*

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

What Need The Bridge Much Broader Than The Flood?

Love All, Trust A Few, Do Wrong To None.

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

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.

For Though The Camomile, The More It Is Trodden On The Faster It Grows, Yet Youth, The More It Is Wasted, The Sooner It Wears.

Trust Not My Reading, Nor My Observations, Which With Experimental Seal Do Warrant The Tenor Of My Book.

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

Instead Of Weeping When A Tragedy Occurs In A Songbird's Life, It Sings Away Its Grief. I Believe We Could Well Follow The Pattern Of Our Feathered Friends.

She's Gone. I Am Abused, And My Relief Must Be To Loathe Her.

From This Day Forward Until The End Of The World...we In It Shall Be Remembered...we Band Of Brothers.

A Little More Than Kin, And Less Than Kind.

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

A Stirring Dwarf We Do Allowance Give Before A Sleeping Giant.

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.

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.

Talkers Are No Good Doers.

Things Sweet To Taste Prove In Digestion Sour.

Small To Greater Matters Must Give Way.

A Great Cause Of The Night Is Lack Of The Sun.

Death Lies On Her Like An Untimely Frost.

But If The While I Think On Thee, Dear Friend, All Losses Are Restored And Sorrows End.

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

Why Are Our Bodies Soft, And Weak, And Smooth But That Our Soft Conditions And Our Hearts Should Well Agree With Our External Parts?

Cannot You Tell That? Every Fool Can Tell That. It Was The Very Day That Young Hamlet Was Born, He That Is Mad And Sent Into England." "ay, Marry, Why Was He Sent Into England?" "why, Because He Was Mad. He Shall Recover His Wits There, Or, If He Do Not, It's No Great Matter There." "why?" "'twill Not Be Seen In Him There. There The Men Are As Mad As He.

Kiss Me, Kate, We Shall Be Married O'sunday

On Pain Of Death, No Person Be So Bold.

And, If You Love Me, As I Think You Do, Let's Kiss And Part, For We Have Much To Do

The Summer's Flow'r Is To The Summer Sweet, Though To Itself It Only Live And Die' But If That Flow'r With Base Infection Meet, The Basest Weed Outbraves His Dignity: For Sweetest Things Turn Sourest By Their Deeds; Lilies That Fester Smell Far Worse Than Weeds.

Within The Book And Volume Of Thy Brain.

I'll Give My Jewels For A Set Of Beads, My Gorgeous Palace For A Hermitage, My Gay Apparel For An Almsman's Gown, My Figured Goblets For A Dish Of Wood, My Scepter For A Palmer's Walking Staff My Subjects For A Pair Of Carved Saints And My Large Kingdom For A Little Grave.

Come My Spade. There Is No Ancient Gentlemen But Gardeners, Ditchers, And Grave-makers; They Hold Up Adam's Profession.

Preferred Three Hours Quicker Over One Moment Late.

I See, Sir, You Are Liberal In Offers. You Taught Me First To Beg, And Now Methinks You Teach Me How A Beggar Should Be Answered.

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

I Am Not Merry, But I Do Beguile The Thing I Am By Seeming Otherwise.

Foul Words Is But Foul Wind, And Foul Wind Is But Foul Breath, And Foul Breath Is Noisome; Therefore I Will Depart Unkissed.

How Art Thou Out Of Breath When Thou Hast Breath To Say To Me That Thou Art Out Of Breath?

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

And By That Destiny To Perform An Act Whereof What's Past Is Prologue, What To Come In Yours And My Discharge.

O Helena, Goddess, Nymph, Perfect, Divine! To What, My Love, Shall I Compare Thine Eyne? Crystal Is Muddy. O, How Ripe In Show Thy Lips, Those Kissing Cherries, Tempting Grow!

Twas Never Merry World Since Lowly Feigning Was Called Compliment.

Sweet Recreation Barred, What Doth Ensue But Moody And Dull Melancholy, Kinsman To Grim And Comfortless Despair.

Let The Sap Of Reason Quench The Fire Of Passion.

Good Morning To You, Fair And Gracious Daughter.

Tis Beauty Truly Blent, Whose Red And White Nature's Own Sweet And Cunning Hand Laid On.

We That Are True Lovers Run Into Strange Capers.

There's Nothing Situate Under Heaven's Eye But Hath His Bond In Earth, In Sea, In Sky. The Beasts, The Fishes, And The Winged Fowls Are Their Males' Subjects And At Their Controls. Man, More Divine, The Master Of All These, Lord Of The Wide World And Wild Wat'ry Seas, Indu'd With Intellectual Sense And Souls, Of More Pre-eminence Than Fish And Fowls, Are Masters To Their Females, And Their Lords; Then Let Your Will Attend On Their Accords.

Out Of My Sight! Thou Dost Infect Mine Eyes.

If Men Could Be Contented To Be What They Are, There Were No Fear In Marriage.

If He Be So Resolved, I Can O'ersway Him; For He Loves To Hear That Unicorns May Be Betrayed With Trees And Bears With Glasses, Elephants With Holes, Lions With Toils, And Men With Flatterers

I'll Fight, Till From My Bones My Flesh Be Hacked.

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.

Lovers Ever Run Before The Clock

Winter, Which, Being Full Of Care, Makes Summer's Welcome Thrice More Wish'd, More Rare.

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.

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.

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

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

So Well Thy Words Become Thee As Thy Wounds.

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

When I Got Enough Confidence, The Stage Was Gone. When I Was Sure Of Losing, I Won. When I Needed People The Most, They Left Me. When I Learnt To Dry My Tears, I Found A Shoulder To Cry On. And When I Mastered The Art Of Hating, Somebody Started Loving Me.

O, How Full Of Briers Is This Working-day World!

Nature Does Require Her Time Of Preservation, Which Perforce, I Her Frail Son Amongst My Brethren Mortal, Must Give My Attendance To.

It Is That Fery Person For All The Orld, As Just As You Will Desire; And Seven Hundred Pounds Of Moneys, And Gold, And Silver, Is Her Grandsire Upon His Death's-bed-got Deliver To A Joyful Resurrections!

Beware Of Entrance To A Quarrel; But Being In, Bear't That The Opposed May Beware Of Thee. Give Every Man Thy Ear, But Few Thy Voice; Take Each Man's Censure, But Reserve Thy Judgment. Costly Thy Habit As Thy Purse Can Buy, But Not Express'd In Fancy; Rich, Not Gaudy; For The Apparel Oft Proclaims The Man.

Men So Noble, However Faulty, Yet Should Find Respect For What They Have Been: 'tis A Cruelty To Load A Falling Man.

Come Now, What Masques, What Dances Shall We Have To Wear Away This Long Age Of Three Hours Between Our After-supper And Bedtime?

How Use Doth Breed A Habit In A Man.

Past And To Come, Seems Best; Things Present, Worse.

Well, I Will Find You Twenty Lascivious Turtles Ere One Chaste Man.

The Liquid Drops Of Tears That You Have Shed Shall Come Again, Transform'd To Orient Pearl, Advantaging Their Loan With Interest Of Ten Times Double Gain Of Happiness.

Let's Teach Ourselves That Honorable Stop, Not To Outsport Discretion.

There Is No Sure Foundation Set On Blood, No Certain Life Achieved By Others' Death.

Now Is The Winter Of Our Discontent.

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