The gods are just, and of our pleasant vices Make instruments to plague us. — William Shakespeare Copy Share Image
If thou dost marry, I'll give thee this plague for thy dowry: be thou as chaste as ice, as pure as snow,… — William Shakespeare Copy Share Image
Not from the stars do I my judgement pluck, And yet methinks I have astronomy. But not to tell of good or… — William Shakespeare Copy Share Image
All the contagion of the south light on you, You shames of Rome! you herd of--boils and plagues Plaster you o'er; that… — William Shakespeare Copy Share Image
Bloody instructions, which, being taught, return to plague the inventor. — William Shakespeare Copy Share Image
A plague of sighing and grief! It blows a man up like a bladder. — William Shakespeare Copy Share Image
Thou art a boil, a plague sore, an embossed carbuncle in my corrupted blood. — 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
