The seasons alter: hoary-headed frosts Fall in the fresh lap of the crimson rose, And on old Hiems' thin and icy crown… — William Shakespeare Copy Share Image
“Return of love, more blest may be the view; As call it winter, which being full of care, Makes summer’s welcome thrice… — William Shakespeare Copy Share Image
Now is the winter of our discontent Made glorious summer by this sun of York; And all the clouds that lour'd upon… — William Shakespeare Copy Share Image
The summer's flow'r is to the summer sweet, Though to itself it only live and die' But if that flow'r with base… — William Shakespeare Copy Share Image
I am a Jew: Hath not a Jew eyes? hath not a Jew hands, organs, dimensions, senses, affections, passions? fed with die… — William Shakespeare Copy Share Image
The summer's flower is to the summer sweet Though to itself it only live and die — William Shakespeare Copy Share Image
Sir, the year growing ancient, Not yet on summer's death nor on the birth Of trembling winter, the fairest flowers o' th'… — William Shakespeare Copy Share Image
To me, fair friend, you never can be old, For as you were when first your eye I eyed, Such seems your… — William Shakespeare Copy Share Image
Thy tongue Makes Welsh as sweet as ditties highly penn'd, Sung by a fair queen in a summer's bower, With ravishing division,… — 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
