A glooming peace this morning with it brings; The sun, for sorrow, will not show his head: Go hence, to have more… — William Shakespeare Copy Share Image
If we shadows have offended, Think but this, and all is mended, That you have but slumbered here While these visions did… — William Shakespeare Copy Share Image
Now my charms are all o'erthrown, And what strength I have's mine own, - Which is most faint: now, 'tis true, I… — William Shakespeare Copy Share Image
Now my charms are all o'erthrown, And what strength I have's mine own, Which is most faint: now, 'tis true, Or sent… — William Shakespeare Copy Share Image
Mercy is not itself, that oft looks so; Pardon is still the nurse of second woe. — William Shakespeare Copy Share Image
For in the fatness of these pursy times Virtue itself of vice must pardon beg. — William Shakespeare Copy Share Image
O, pardon me, thou bleeding piece of earth, / That I am meek and gentle with these butchers! — William Shakespeare Copy Share Image
Day, night, late, early, At home, abroad, alone, in company, Waking or sleeping, still my care hath been To have her match'd;… — William Shakespeare Copy Share Image
The pow'r I have on you is to spare you / The malice towards you, to forgive you. Posthumus — William Shakespeare Copy Share Image
Pardon, gentles all, the flat unraised spirits that have dared on this unworthy scaffold to bring forth so great an object. — William Shakespeare Copy Share Image
O my good lord, that comfort comes too late, 'Tis like a pardon after execution. That gentle physic, given in time, had… — William Shakespeare Copy Share Image
But love that comes too late, Like a remorseful pardon slowly carried, To the great sender turns a sour offense, Crying, 'That's… — William Shakespeare Copy Share Image
As you from crimes would pardon'd be, Let your indulgence set me free. — 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