His jest shall savour but a shallow wit, when thousands more weep than did laugh it.
Conscience is but a word that cowards use,Devis'd at first to keep the strong in awe:Our strong arms be our conscience, swords our law.March on, join bravely, let us to't pell-mell;If not to heaven, t...
Ay me! for aught that ever I could read,could ever hear by tale or history,the course of true love never did run smooth.
And therefore, — since I cannot prove a lover,To entertain these fair well-spoken days, —I am determined to prove a villain,And hate the idle pleasures of these days.
Great men may jest with saints 'tis wit in them But in the less foul profanation.
When I was at home I was in a better place but travellers must be content.
How sharper than a serpent's tooth it is To have a thankless child.
Talkers are no good doers.
When sorrows come they come not as single spies But in battalions!
Sleep that knits up the ravelled sleave of care The death of each day's life sore labour's bath Balm of hurt minds great nature's second course Chief nourisher in life's feast.
For there was never yet philosopher That could endure the toothache patiently.
And makes us rather bear those ills we have Than fly to others that we know not of?
The clock upbraids me with the waste of time.
A friend should bear his friend's infirmities.
A countenance more in sorrow than in anger.
God grant us patience!
No 'tis not so deep as a well nor so wide as a church door but 'tis enough 'twill serve: ask for me tomorrow and you shall find me a grave man. I am peppered I warrant for this world.
But screw your courage to the sticking place and we'll not fail.
What's done can't be undone.
The play's the thing.