Forty thousand brothersCould not, with all their quantity of love,Make up my sum.
Our thoughts are ours, their ends none of our own
In brief, sir, study what you most affect.
My heart prays for him, though my tongue do curse.
If thou remember'st not the slightest folly that ever love did make thee run into, thou hast not loved.
O sleep, O gentle sleep, nature's soft nurse, how have I frightened thee, that thou no more wilt weigh my eye-lids down and steep my senses in forgetfulness?
He that is thy friend indeed,He will help thee in thy need:If thou sorrow, he will weep;If thou wake, he cannot sleep:Thus of every grief in heartHe with thee does bear a part.These are certain signs to knowFaithful friend from flattering foe.
I wasted time, and now doth Time waste me: For now hath Time made me his numb'ring clock; My thoughts are minutes
Own more than thou showest, speak less than thou knowest.
Once more the engine of her thoughts began. . . .
Do you think I am easier to be played on than a pipe? Call me what instrument you will, though you can fret me, you cannot play upon me.
Our wills and fates do so contrary runThat our devices still are overthrown;Our thoughts are ours, their ends none of our own.
What! Wouldst thou have a serpent sting thee twice?
A hundred thousand welcomes. I could weep / And I could laugh, I am light and heavy. / Welcome.
Why so large a cost, having so short a lease, does thou upon your fading mansion spend?
I and my bosom must debate awhile, and then I would no other company.
That is not the best sermon which makes the hearers go away talking to one another and praising the speaker, but which makes them go away thoughtful and serious, and hastening to be alone.
Conscience is a thousand swords.
I would not marry her, though she were endowed with all that Adam had left him before he transgressed.
What need I fear of thee? But yet I'll make assurance double sure, and take a bond of fate: thou shalt not live; That I may tell pale-hearted fear it lies, And sleep in spite of thunder
Thou wert best set - thy lower part where thy nose stands
O father Abram! what these Christians are,Whose own hard dealings teaches them suspectThe thoughts of others!
I cannot, nor I will not, hold me still;My tongue, though not my heart, shall have his will.
All, with one consent, praise newborn gawds (sic), though they are made and molded of things past
So are you to my thoughts as food to life, or as sweet seasoned showers are to the ground.
Be thou as chaste as ice, as pure as snow, thou shalt not escape calumny.
What stronger breastplate than a heart untainted! Thrice is he armed that hath his quarrel just, and he but naked, though locked up in steel, whose conscience with injustice is corrupted.
The sea all water, yet receives rain still,And in abundance addeth to his store,So thou being rich in will add to thy willOne will of mine to make thy large will more.
Blow, blow thou winter wind, Thou art not so unkind As man's ingratitude; Thy tooth is not so keen, Because thou art not seen, Although thy breath be rude
One that lies three thirds and uses a known truth to pass a thousand nothings with, should be once heard and thrice beaten.
Though I am not naturally honest, I am so sometimes by chance.
Though I am not naturally honest, I am sometimes by chance.
Though he is small, he is but fierce.
Though care killed a cat, thou hast mettle enough in thee to kill care
Thou canst not say I did it: never shakeThy gory locks at me.
Thou art not for the fashion of these times,Where none will sweat but for promotion.
Thou know'st the first time that we smell the air we wawl and cry. When we are born we cry, that we are come to this great state of fools.
She was a vixen when she went to school:And though she be but little, she is fierce.
And many strokes though with a little axe hew down and fell the hardest-timbered oak.
My thoughts are whirled like a potter's wheel; I know not where I am nor what I do.
When words are scarce they are seldom spent in vain.
Thoughts are but dreams till their effects be tried.
Though this be madness, yet there is method
Fear no more the heat o the sun, nor the furious winter's rages. Thou thy worldly task hast done, home art gone and taken thy wages.
I am not a slut, though I thank the Gods I am foul.
The friends thou hast, and their adoption tried, grapple them to thy soul with hoops of steel, but do not dull thy palm with entertainment of each new-hatched unfledged comrade.
When my love swears that she is made of truth, I do believe her, though know she lies