It is my soul that calls upon my name; How silver-sweet sound lovers' tongues by night, like softest music to attending ears!… — William Shakespeare Copy Share Image
One whom the music of his own vain tongue doth ravish like enchanting harmony. — William Shakespeare Copy Share Image
If music be the food of love, play on, Give me excess of it; that surfeiting, The appetite may sicken, and so… — William Shakespeare Copy Share Image
“The setting sun, and music at the close, As the last taste of sweets, is sweetest last, Writ in remembrance more than… — William Shakespeare Copy Share Image
Though music oft hath such a charm to make bad good, and good provoke to harm. — William Shakespeare Copy Share Image
Preposterous ass, that never read so far to know the cause why music was ordain'd! Was it not to refresh the mind… — William Shakespeare Copy Share Image
“Preposterous ass, that never read so far To know the cause why music was ordain'd! Was it not to refresh the mind… — William Shakespeare Copy Share Image
The eagle suffers little birds to sing, And is not careful what they mean thereby, Knowing that with the shadow of his… — William Shakespeare Copy Share Image
When griping grief the heart doth wound, and doleful dumps the mind opresses, then music, with her silver sound, with speedy help… — William Shakespeare Copy Share Image
Keep time! How sour sweet music is when time is broke and no proportion kept! So is it in the music of… — William Shakespeare Copy Share Image
And in some perfumes there is more delight than in the breath that from my mistress reeks. I love to hear her… — 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
