Thy husband is thy lord, thy life, thy keeper,Thy head, thy sovereign, one that cares for thee,And for thy maintenance; commits his bodyTo painful labor, both by sea and land;To watch the night in storms,...

Verily, I swear, ’tis better to be lowly born, and range with humble livers in content, than to be perk’d up in a glistering grief, and wear a golden sorrow.

Parting is such sweet sorrow that I shall say goodnight till it be morrow.

Journeys end in lovers meeting.

To be or not to be that is the question.

I know you all, and will awhile uphold the unyoked humour of your idleness . . .

Thy best of rest is sleep,And that thou oft provok’st; yet grossly fear’stThy death, which is no more.

Nought’s had, all’s spent, where our desire is got without content.

So oft it chances in particular menThat for some vicious mole of nature inthem—As in their birth (wherein they are not guilty,Since nature cannot choose his origin),By the o’ergrowth of some complexion,Oft breaking down the...

The sleeping and the dead are but as pictures. Lady Macbeth

And while thoulivest, dear Kate, take a fellow of plain anduncoined constancy; for he perforce must do theeright, because he hath not the gift to woo in otherplaces: for these fellows of infinite tongue, thatcan...

To hell, allegiance! Vows, to the blackest devil!Conscience and grace, to the profoundest pit!I dare damnation

Had he not resembled My father as he slept I had done’t!” Macbeth

Et tu, Brute?

Mad I call it, for to define true madness, what is’t to be nothing else but mad?

…and when he dies, cut him out in little stars, and the face of heaven will be so fine that all the world will be in love with night and pay no heed to the...

To say the truth, reason and love keep little company together now-a-days.

Let me be cruel, not unnatural;I will speak daggers to her, but use none.

Love is not loveWhich alters when it alteration finds,Or bends with the remover to remove.O no, it is an ever-fixed markThat looks on tempests and is never shaken;It is the star to every wand’ring bark,Whose...

Bid me run, and I will strive with things impossible.

Full fathom five thy father lies;Of his bones are coral made;Those are pearls that were his eyes:Nothing of him that doth fade,But doth suffer a sea-changeInto something rich and strange.Sea-nymphs hourly ring his knell: Ding-dong...

Remember thee? Ay, thou poor ghost, while memory holds a seatin this distracted globe. Remember thee?

Under the greenwood tree,Who loves to lie with meAnd tune his merry note,Unto the sweet bird’s throat;Come hither, come hither, come hither.Here shall he seeNo enemyBut winter and rough weather.

Screw your courage to the sticking-place

What is your substance, whereof are you made,That millions of strange shadows on you tend?Since everyone hath every one, one shade,And you, but one, can every shadow lend.Describe Adonis, and the counterfeitIs poorly imitated after...

Where shall we three meet again in thunder, lightning, or in rain? When the hurlyburly ‘s done, when the battle ‘s lost and won

Give sorrow words; the grief that does not speak knits up the o-er wrought heart and bids it break.

Some grief shows much of love,But much of grief shows still some want of wit.

Parting is such sweet sorrow

No legacy is so rich as honesty.

Orsino: For, boy, however we do praise ourselves,Our fancies are more giddy and unfirm,More longing, wavering, sooner lost and won,Than women’s are. …For women are as roses, whose fair flow’rBeing once display’d doth fall that...

Here come the lovers, full of joy and mirth.— Joy, gentle friends! joy and fresh days of love Accompany your hearts!

Rich gifts wax poor when givers prove unkind.

Love’s stories written in love’s richest books.To fan the moonbeams from his sleeping eyes.

O, pur se nella scelta c’è armonia, L’amore è poi assediato dalla guerra,O dalla morte, o dalla malattia, Che lo rendono breve come un suono, Celere come un’ombra, fugace come i sogni;Rapido come il lampo...

The devil can cite Scripture for his purpose.

BOTTOMThere are things in this comedy of Pyramus and Thisby that will never please. First, Pyramus must draw a sword to kill himself; which the ladiescannot abide. How answer you that?SNOUTBy’r lakin, a parlous fear.STARVELINGI...

Some Cupid kills with arrows, some with traps.

When devils will the blackest sins put onThey do suggest at first with heavenly shows

It were for me To throw my sceptre at the injurious gods; To tell them that this world did equal theirs Till they had stolen our jewel.

Northumberland, thou ladder wherewithal the mounting Bolingbroke ascends my throne.

Over hill, over dale,Thorough bush, thorough brier,Over park, over pale,Thorough flood, thorough fire,I do wander everywhere.

If thou remember’st not the slightest folly that ever love did make thee run into, thou hast not loved.

O, hereWill I set up my everlasting rest,And shake the yoke of inauspicious starsFrom this world-wearied flesh. Eyes, look your last!Arms, take your last embrace! and, lips, O youThe doors of breath, seal with a...

Wisely and slow; they stumble that run fast.

This feather stirs; she lives! if it be so, it is a chance which does redeem all sorrows that ever I have felt.

How art thou out of breath when thou hast breathTo say to me that thou art out of breath?

Tongues in trees, books in running brooks, sermons in stones, and good in everything.

He stopped the flyersAnd by his rare example made the cowardTurn terror into sport. As weeds beforeA vessel under sail, so men obeyedAnd fell below his stem. His sword, Death’s stamp,Where it did mark, it...

O hell! to choose love by another’s eye.