Beauty's a doubtful good, a glass, a flower, Lost, faded, broken, dead within an hour; And beauty, blemish'd once, for ever's lost,… — William Shakespeare Copy Share Image
What e'er you are That in this desert inaccessible, Under the shade of melancholy boughs, Lose and neglect the creeping hours of… — William Shakespeare Copy Share Image
So many hours must I take my rest; So many hours must I contemplate. — William Shakespeare Copy Share Image
O, grief hath changed me since you saw me last, And careful hours with Time's deformed hand Have written strange defeatures in… — William Shakespeare Copy Share Image
See the minutes, how they run, How many make the hour full complete; How many hours bring about the day; How many… — William Shakespeare Copy Share Image
“Let me not to the marriage of true minds Admit impediments. Love is not love Which alters when it alteration finds, Or… — William Shakespeare Copy Share Image
I could be well content To entertain the lag-end of my life With quiet hours. — William Shakespeare Copy Share Image
What should a man do but be merry? For look you how cheerfully my mother looks, and my father died within's two… — William Shakespeare Copy Share Image
Make the upcoming hour overflow with joy, and let pleasure drown the brim. — William Shakespeare Copy Share Image
I wasted time, and now doth time waste me; For now hath time made me his numbering clock: My thoughts are minutes;… — William Shakespeare Copy Share Image
And to be merry best becomes you; for, out of question, you were born in a merry hour. BEATRICE No, sure, my… — William Shakespeare Copy Share Image
What should we speak of When we are old as you? when we shall hear The rain and wind beat dark December?… — William Shakespeare Copy Share Image
My rage is gone, And I am struck with sorrow. Take him up. Help, three o' th' chiefest soldiers; I'll be one.… — William Shakespeare Copy Share Image
Come now, what masques, what dances shall we have To wear away this long age of three hours Between our after-supper and… — William Shakespeare Copy Share Image
Love's not Time's fool, though rosy lips and cheeks Within his bending sickle's compass come; Love alters not with his brief hours… — William Shakespeare Copy Share Image
I will be treble-sinewed, hearted, breathed, And fight maliciously; for when mine hours Were nice and lucky, men did ransom lives Of… — William Shakespeare Copy Share Image
O gentlemen, the time of life is short! To spend that shortness basely were too long, If life did ride upon a… — William Shakespeare Copy Share Image
Canst thou, O partial sleep, give thy repose to the wet sea-boy in an hour so rude, and in the calmest and… — William Shakespeare Copy Share Image
Pray, do not mock me. I am a very foolish fond old man, Fourscore and upward, not an hour more nor less;… — William Shakespeare Copy Share Image
He knows what it's like to strut and fret his hour upon the stage and then be heard no more. — William Shakespeare Copy Share Image
And then he drew a dial from his poke, And looking with lack-lustre eye, Says very wisely, 'It is ten o'clock: Thus… — 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 Image
Divers philosophers hold that the lips is parcel of the mouth. — William Shakespeare Copy Share Image
“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 Image
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 Image
Ask God for temp'rance. That's th' appliance only Which your disease requires. — William Shakespeare Copy Share Image
“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 Image
Have you not heard it said full oft, A woman's nay doth stand for naught? — William Shakespeare Copy Share Image
