I had rather have a fool to make me merry than experience to make me sad — William Shakespeare Copy Share Image
O call not me to justify the wrong, That thy unkindness lays upon my heart, Wound me not with thine eye but… — William Shakespeare Copy Share Image
So now I have confessed that he is thine, And I my self am mortgaged to thy will, My self I'll forfeit,… — William Shakespeare Copy Share Image
But fish not with this melancholy bait For this fool gudgeon, this opinion. — William Shakespeare Copy Share Image
“Tis torture and not mercy. Heaven is here, Where Juliet lives, and every cat and dog And little mouse, every unworthy thing,… — William Shakespeare Copy Share Image
Thou art as tyrannous, so as thou art, As those whose beauties proudly make them cruel; For well thou know'st to my… — William Shakespeare Copy Share Image
I have neither the scholar's melancholy, which is emulation; nor the musician's, which is fantastical; nor the courtier's, which is proud; not… — William Shakespeare Copy Share Image
Beshrew that heart that makes my heart to groan For that deep wound it gives my friend and me; Is't not enough… — William Shakespeare Copy Share Image
Now the melancholy God protect thee, and the tailor make thy garments of changeable taffeta, for thy mind is opal. — William Shakespeare Copy Share Image
There's little of the melancholy element in her, my lord: she is never sad but when she sleeps; and not ever sad… — William Shakespeare Copy Share Image
Come away, come away, Death, And in sad cypress let me be laid; Fly away, fly away, breath, I am slain by… — William Shakespeare Copy Share Image
Feed on her damask cheek: she pined in thought, And with a green and yellow melancholy She sat like patience on a… — William Shakespeare Copy Share Image
But it is a melancholy of mine own, compounded of many simples, extracted from many objects, and indeed the sundry contemplation of… — William Shakespeare Copy Share Image
Thine eyes I love, and they as pitying me, Knowing thy heart torment me with disdain, Have put on black, and loving… — William Shakespeare Copy Share Image
But whate'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
No longer mourn for me when I am dead Than you shall hear the surly sullen bell Give warning to the world… — William Shakespeare Copy Share Image
Tired with all these for restful death I cry, As to behold desert a beggar born, And needy nothing trimmed in jollity,… — 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
