One half of me is yours, the other half is yours, Mine own, I would say; but if mine, then yours, And so all yours.
William ShakespeareTo mourn a mischief that is past and gone Is the next way to draw new mischief on.
William ShakespeareWhen holy and devout religious men are at their beads, 'tis hard to draw them thence; so sweet is zealous contemplation.
William ShakespeareI 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!
William ShakespeareSpirits are not finely touched But to fine issues, nor Nature never lends The smallest scruple of her excellence But like a thrifty goddess she determines Herself the glory of a creditor,Both thanks and use.
William ShakespeareWatch tonight, pray tomorrow. Gallants, lads, boys, hearts of gold, all the titles of good fellowship come to you!
William ShakespeareAnd ruin`d love when it is built anew, grows fairer than at first, more strong, far greater
William ShakespeareIn thee thy mother dies, our household's name, My death's revenge, thy youth, and England's fame.
William ShakespeareSound trumpets! Let our bloody colours wave! And either victory, or else a grave.
William ShakespeareMen should be what they seem; Or those that be not, would they might seem none!.
William ShakespeareAll thy vexations Were but my trials of thy love, and thou Hast strangely stood the test; here, afore heaven, I ratify this my rich gift.
William ShakespeareNow entertain conjecture of a time When creeping murmur and the poring dark Fills the wide vessel of the universe.
William ShakespeareBy God, I cannot flatter, I do defy The tongues of soothers! but a braver place In my heart's love hath no man than yourself. Nay, task me to my word; approve me, lord.
William ShakespeareI have heard of some kind of men that put quarrels purposely on others, to taste their valor.
William ShakespeareThe moon of Rome, chaste as the icicle that's curded by the frost from purest snow.
William ShakespeareTo me, fair friend, you never can be old, For as you were when first your eye I ey'd, Such seems your beauty still.
William ShakespeareGraze on my lips; and if those hills be dry, stray lower, where the pleasant fountains lie.
William ShakespeareOh why rebuke you him that loves you so? / Lay breath so bitter on your bitter foe.
William ShakespeareThe setting sun, and the music at the close, As the last taste of sweets, is sweetest last, Writ in rememberance more than long things past.
William Shakespeare