O most delicate fiend! Who is't can read a woman? Is there more? — William Shakespeare Copy Share Image
The curse of marriage That we can call these delicate creatures ours And not their appetites! — William Shakespeare Copy Share Image
Thou ever young, fresh, lov'd, and delicate wooer, whose blush doth thaw the consecrated snow — William Shakespeare Copy Share Image
Time hath not yet so dried this blood of mine, Nor age so eat up my invention, Nor fortune made such havoc of my… — William Shakespeare Copy Share
“Love is a smoke made with the fume of sighs; Being purg'd, a fire sparkling in lovers' eyes; Being vex'd, a sea nourish'd with… — William Shakespeare Copy Share
I, measuring his affections by my own, Which then most sought where most might not be found, Being one too many by my weary… — William Shakespeare Copy Share
Ask God for temp'rance. That's th' appliance only Which your disease requires. — William Shakespeare Copy Share
“Thou hast no figures nor no fantasies Which busy care draws in the brains of men; Therefore thou sleep’st so sound. Julius Caesar (2.1.248-251)” — William Shakespeare Copy Share
Have you not heard it said full oft, A woman's nay doth stand for naught? — William Shakespeare Copy Share
“Yes, madam: yet I cannot choose but laugh, To think it should leave crying and say 'Ay.' And yet, I warrant, it had upon… — William Shakespeare Copy Share
I take thee at thy word: Call me but love, and I'll be new baptized; Henceforth I never will be Romeo. — William Shakespeare Copy Share
