The moon of Rome, chaste as the icicle that's curded by the frost from purest snow. — William Shakespeare Copy Share Image
As soon go kindle fire with snow, as seek to quench the fire of love with words. — William Shakespeare Copy Share Image
Lawn as white as driven snow; Cyprus black as e'er was crow; Gloves as sweet as damask roses. — William Shakespeare Copy Share Image
“Be thou as chaste as ice, as pure as snow, thou shalt not escape calumny.” — 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
Though now this grained face of mine be hid In sap-consuming winter's drizzled snow, And all the conduits of my blood froze… — William Shakespeare Copy Share Image
Thou ever young, fresh, lov'd, and delicate wooer, whose blush doth thaw the consecrated snow — William Shakespeare Copy Share Image
At Christmas I no more desire a rose Than wish a snow in May's new-fangled mirth; But like of each thing that… — William Shakespeare Copy Share Image
What if this cursed hand Were thicker than itself with brother's blood Is there not rain enough in the sweet heaves To… — 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
