William Shakespeare

Hung be the heavens with black! Yield, day, to night!

The poor world is almost six thousand years old, and in all this time there was not any man died in his own person,<br />videlicet, in a love-cause.

Most subject is the fattest soil to weeds.

I am sure,<br />Though you can guess what temperance should be,<br />You know not what it is.

I would not lose so great an honor<br />As one man more methinks would share with me<br />For the best hope I have.

The fewer men, the greater share of honor.

By being seldom seen, I could not stir<br />But like a comet I was wondered at.

Honor's thought<br />Reigns solely in the breast of every man.

Ne'er ask me what raiment I'll wear, for I have no more doublets than backs, no more stockings than legs, nor no more shoes than feet--nay, sometime more feet than shoes, or such shoes as my toes look through the overleather.

My friends were poor, but honest, so's my love.

There's not a shirt and a half in all my company, and the half<br />shirt is two napkins tacked together and thrown over the<br />shoulders like a herald's coat without sleeves.

Crowns in my purse I have, and goods at home,<br />And so am come abroad to see the world.

Now no way can I stray;<br />Save back to England, all the world's my way.

I hope to see London once ere I die.

If I had my mouth, I would bite; if I had my liberty, I would do my liking. In the meantime, let me be that I am, and seek not toalter me.

This is no time to lend money, especially upon bare friendship without security.

Every inordinate cup is unbless'd, and the ingredient is a devil.

Be not afeard; the isle is full of noises.

Hate pollutes the mind.

O Romeo, Romeo! wherefore art thou Romeo? <br /> Deny thy father and refuse thy name; <br />Or, if thou wilt not, be but sworn my love... <br />'Tis but thy name that is my enemy;<br />What's in a name? that which we call a rose <br />By any other name would smell as sweet...

Why should honor outlive honestly? Orthello

He does me double wrong<br />That wounds me with the flatteries of his tongue.

This was the noblest Roman of them all. All the conspirators, save only he,Did that they did in envy of Caesar;He only, in a general honest thoughtAnd common good to all, made one of them. His life was gentle, and the elementsSo mixd in him that Nature might stand upAnd say to all the world, This was a man!

Crabbed age and youth cannot live together: Youth is full of pleasance, age is full of care.

O war! thou son of Hell!

A woman is a dish for the gods, if the devil dress her not.

A woman moved is like a fountain troubled, Muddy, ill-seeming, thick, bereft of beauty.

Tis time to fear when tyrants seem to kiss.

Play out the play ...

Though it be honest, it is never good to bring bad news.