Keep time! How sour sweet music is when time is broke and no proportion kept! So is it in the music of… — William Shakespeare Copy Share Image
In sweet music is such art, Killing care and grief of heart Fall asleep, or hearing die. — William Shakespeare Copy Share Image
How soar sweet music is, when time is broke, and no proportion kept! — William Shakespeare Copy Share Image
How sweet the moonlight sleeps upon this bank Here we will sit, and let the sounds of music Creep in our ears;… — William Shakespeare Copy Share Image
Orpheus with his lute made trees, And the mountain tops that freeze, Bow themselves, when he did sing; To his music, plants… — 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
