William Shakespeare quotes such as “To be, or not to be” and “O Romeo, Romeo! wherefore art thou Romeo?” form some of literature’s most celebrated lines. Other famous Shakespeare quotes such as “I ‘ll not budge an inch”, “We have seen better days” ,”A dish fit for the gods” and the expression it’s “Greek to me” have all become catch phrases in modern day speech. Furthermore, other William Shakespeare quotes such as “to thine own self be true” have become widely spoken pearls of wisdom.

Sonnet 18

“Shall I compare thee to a summer’s day?
Thou art more lovely and more temperate:
Rough winds do shake the darling buds of May,
And summer’s lease hath all too short a date”.

Hamlet

To be, or not to be: that is the question”. - (Act III, Scene I).

“Neither a borrower nor a lender be; For loan oft loses both itself and friend, and borrowing dulls the edge of husbandry”. - (Act I, Scene III).

“This above all: to thine own self be true”. - (Act I, Scene III).

“Though this be madness, yet there is method in ‘t.”. - (Act II, Scene II).

“That it should come to this!”. - (Act I, Scene II).

“There is nothing either good or bad, but thinking makes it so”. - (Act II, Scene II).

“What a piece of work is man! how noble in reason! how infinite in faculty! in form and moving how express and admirable! in action how like an angel! in apprehension how like a god! the beauty of the world, the paragon of animals! “. - (Act II, Scene II).

“The lady doth protest too much, methinks”. - (Act III, Scene II).

“In my mind’s eye”. - (Act I, Scene II).

“A little more than kin, and less than kind”. - (Act I, Scene II).

“The play ’s the thing wherein I’ll catch the conscience of the king”. - (Act II, Scene II).

“And it must follow, as the night the day, thou canst not then be false to any man”. - (Act I, Scene III).”This is the very ecstasy of love”. - (Act II, Scene I).

“Brevity is the soul of wit”. - (Act II, Scene II).

“Doubt that the sun doth move, doubt truth to be a liar, but never doubt I love”. - (Act II, Scene II).

“Rich gifts wax poor when givers prove unkind”. - (Act III, Scene I).

“Do you think I am easier to be played on than a pipe?” - (Act III, Scene II).

“I will speak daggers to her, but use none”. - (Act III, Scene II).

“When sorrows come, they come not single spies, but in battalions”. - (Act IV, Scene V).

As You Like It

“All the world ’s a stage, and all the men and women merely players. They have their exits and their entrances; And one man in his time plays many parts” - (Act II, Scene VII).

“Can one desire too much of a good thing?”. - (Act IV, Scene I).

“I like this place and willingly could waste my time in it” - (Act II, Scene IV).

“How bitter a thing it is to look into happiness through another man’s eyes!” - (Act V, Scene II).

“Blow, blow, thou winter wind! Thou art not so unkind as man’s ingratitude”.(Act II, Scene VII).

“True is it that we have seen better days”. - (Act II, Scene VII).

“For ever and a day”. - (Act IV, Scene I).

“The fool doth think he is wise, but the wise man knows himself to be a fool”. - (Act V, Scene I).

King Richard III

“Now is the winter of our discontent”. - (Act I, Scene I).

“A horse! a horse! my kingdom for a horse!”. - (Act V, Scene IV).

“Conscience is but a word that cowards use, devised at first to keep the strong in awe”. - (Act V, Scene III).

“So wise so young, they say, do never live long”. - (Act III, Scene I).

“Off with his head!” - (Act III, Scene IV).

“An honest tale speeds best, being plainly told”. - (Act IV, Scene IV).

“The king’s name is a tower of strength”. - (Act V, Scene III).

“The world is grown so bad, that wrens make prey where eagles dare not perch”. - (Act I, Scene III).

Romeo and Juliet

“O Romeo, Romeo! wherefore art thou Romeo?”. - (Act II, Scene II).

“It is the east, and Juliet is the sun” . - (Act II, Scene II).

“Good Night, Good night! Parting is such sweet sorrow, that I shall say good night till it be morrow.” - (Act II, Scene II).

“What’s in a name? That which we call a rose by any other name would smell as sweet”. - (Act II, Scene II).

“Wisely and slow; they stumble that run fast”. - (Act II, Scene III).

“Tempt not a desperate man”. - (Act V, Scene III).

“For you and I are past our dancing days” . - (Act I, Scene V).

“O! she doth teach the torches to burn bright”. - (Act I, Scene V).

“It seems she hangs upon the cheek of night like a rich jewel in an Ethiope’s ear” . - (Act I, Scene V).

“See, how she leans her cheek upon her hand! O that I were a glove upon that hand, that I might touch that cheek!”. - (Act II, Scene II).

“Not stepping o’er the bounds of modesty”. - (Act IV, Scene II).

The Merchant of Venice

“But love is blind, and lovers cannot see”.

“If you prick us, do we not bleed? if you tickle us, do we not laugh? if you poison us, do we not die? and if you wrong us, shall we not revenge?”. - (Act III, Scene I).

“The devil can cite Scripture for his purpose”. - (Act I, Scene III).

“I like not fair terms and a villain’s mind”. - (Act I, Scene III).

The Merry Wives of Windsor

“Why, then the world ’s mine oyster” - (Act II, Scene II).

“This is the short and the long of it”. - (Act II, Scene II).

“I cannot tell what the dickens his name is”. - (Act III, Scene II).

“As good luck would have it”. - (Act III, Scene V).

Measure for Measure

“Our doubts are traitors, and make us lose the good we oft might win, by fearing to attempt”. - (Act I, Scene IV).

“Some rise by sin, and some by virtue fall”. - (Act II, Scene I).

“The miserable have no other medicine but only hope”. - (Act III, Scene I).

King Henry IV, Part I

“He will give the devil his due”. - (Act I, Scene II).

“The better part of valour is discretion”. - (Act V, Scene IV).

King Henry IV, Part II

“He hath eaten me out of house and home”. - (Act II, Scene I).

“Uneasy lies the head that wears a crown”. - (Act III, Scene I).

“A man can die but once”. - (Act III, Scene II).

“I do now remember the poor creature, small beer”. - (Act II, Scene II).

“We have heard the chimes at midnight”. - (Act III, Scene II)

King Henry IV, Part III

“The smallest worm will turn, being trodden on”. - (Act II, Scene II).

“Suspicion always haunts the guilty mind; The thief doth fear each bush an officer”. - (Act V, Scene VI).

King Henry the Sixth, Part I

“Delays have dangerous ends”. - (Act III, Scene II).

“Of all base passions, fear is the most accursed”. - (Act V, Scene II).

King Henry the Sixth, Part II

“The first thing we do, let’s kill all the lawyers”. - (Act IV, Scene II).

“Small things make base men proud”. - (Act IV, Scene I).

“True nobility is exempt from fear”. - (Act IV, Scene I).

King Henry the Sixth, Part III

“Having nothing, nothing can he lose”.- (Act III, Scene III).

Taming of the Shrew

“I ‘ll not budge an inch”. - (Induction, Scene I).

Timon of Athens

“We have seen better days”. - (Act IV, Scene II).

Julius Caesar

“Friends, Romans, countrymen, lend me your ears; I come to bury Caesar, not to praise him”. - (Act III, Scene II).

“But, for my own part, it was Greek to me”. - (Act I, Scene II).

“A dish fit for the gods”. - (Act II, Scene I).

“Cry “Havoc,” and let slip the dogs of war”. - (Act III, Scene I).

“Et tu, Brute!” - (Act III, Scene I).

“Men at some time are masters of their fates: The fault, dear Brutus, is not in our stars, but in ourselves, that we are underlings”. - (Act I, Scene II).

“Not that I loved Caesar less, but that I loved Rome more”. - (Act III, Scene II).

“Beware the ides of March”. - (Act I, Scene II).

“This was the noblest Roman of them all”. - (Act V, Scene V).

“When that the poor have cried, Caesar hath wept: Ambition should be made of sterner stuff”. - (Act III, Scene II).

“Yond Cassius has a lean and hungry look; He thinks too much: such men are dangerous”. (Act I, Scene II).

“For Brutus is an honourable man; So are they all, all honourable men”. - (Act III, Scene II).

“As he was valiant, I honor him; but, as he was ambitious, I slew him” . - (Act III, Scene II).

“Cowards die many times before their deaths; The valiant never taste of death but once.
Of all the wonders that I yet have heard, it seems to me most strange that men should fear;
Seeing that death, a necessary end, will come when it will come”. - (Act II, Scene II).

Macbeth

“There ’s daggers in men’s smiles”. - (Act II, Scene III).

“what ’s done is done”.- (Act III, Scene II).

“I dare do all that may become a man; Who dares do more is none”. - (Act I, Scene VII).

“Fair is foul, and foul is fair”. - (Act I, Scene I).

“I bear a charmed life”. - (Act V, Scene VIII).

“Yet do I fear thy nature; It is too full o’ the milk of human kindness.” - (Act I, Scene V).

“Will all great Neptune’s ocean wash this blood clean from my hand? No, this my hand will rather the multitudinous seas incarnadine, making the green one red” - (Act II, Scene II).

“Double, double toil and trouble; Fire burn, and cauldron bubble.” - (Act IV, Scene I).

“Out, damned spot! out, I say!” - (Act V, Scene I)..

“All the perfumes of Arabia will not sweeten this little hand.” - (Act V, Scene I).

“When shall we three meet again in thunder, lightning, or in rain? When the hurlyburly ’s done,
When the battle ’s lost and won”. - (Act I, Scene I).

“If chance will have me king, why, chance may crown me”. - (Act I, Scene III).

“Nothing in his life became him like the leaving it; he died as one that had been studied in his death to throw away the dearest thing he owed, as ‘t were a careless trifle”. - (Act I, Scene IV).

“Look like the innocent flower, but be the serpent under ‘t.” - (Act I, Scene V).

“I have no spur to prick the sides of my intent, but only vaulting ambition, which o’erleaps itself, and falls on the other.” - (Act I, Scene VII).

“Is this a dagger which I see before me, The handle toward my hand?” - (Act II, Scene I).

“Out, out, brief candle! Life’s but a walking shadow, a poor player that struts and frets his hour upon the stage and then is heard no more: it is a tale told by an idiot, full of sound and fury, signifying nothing.” - (Act V, Scene V).

King Lear

“How sharper than a serpent’s tooth it is to have a thankless child!” - (Act I, Scene IV).

“I am a man more sinned against than sinning”. - (Act III, Scene II).

“My love’s more richer than my tongue”. - (Act I, Scene I).

“Nothing will come of nothing.” - (Act I, Scene I).

“Have more than thou showest, speak less than thou knowest, lend less than thou owest”. - (Act I, Scene IV).

“The worst is not, So long as we can say, ‘This is the worst.’ ” . - (Act IV, Scene I).

Othello

“‘T’is neither here nor there.” - (Act IV, Scene III).

“I will wear my heart upon my sleeve for daws to peck at”. - (Act I, Scene I).

“To mourn a mischief that is past and gone is the next way to draw new mischief on”. - (Act I, Scene III).

“The robbed that smiles steals something from the thief”. - (Act I, Scene III).

Antony and Cleopatra

“My salad days, when I was green in judgment.” - (Act I, Scene V).

Cymbeline

“The game is up.” - (Act III, Scene III).

“I have not slept one wink.”. - (Act III, Scene III).

Twelfth Night

“Be not afraid of greatness: some are born great, some achieve greatness and some have greatness thrust upon them”. - (Act II, Scene V).

“Love sought is good, but giv’n unsought is better” . - (Act III, Scene I).

The Tempest

“We are such stuff as dreams are made on, rounded with a little sleep”.

King Henry the Fifth

“Men of few words are the best men” . - (Act III, Scene II).

A Midsummer Night’s Dream

“The course of true love never did run smooth”. - (Act I, Scene I).

“Love looks not with the eyes, but with the mind, and therefore is winged Cupid painted blind”. - (Act I, Scene I).

Much Ado About Nothing

“Everyone can master a grief but he that has it”. - (Act III, Scene II).

Titus Andronicus

“These words are razors to my wounded heart”. - (Act I, Scene I).

The Winter’s Tale

“What ’s gone and what ’s past help should be past grief” . - (Act III, Scene II).

“You pay a great deal too dear for what’s given freely”. - (Act I, Scene I).

Taming of the Shrew

“Out of the jaws of death”. - (Act III, Scene IV).

“Thus the whirligig of time brings in his revenges”. - (Act V, Scene I).

“For the rain it raineth every day”. - (Act V, Scene I).

Troilus and Cressida

“The common curse of mankind, - folly and ignorance”. - (Act II, Scene III).

Coriolanus

“Nature teaches beasts to know their friends”. - (Act II, Scene I).

Let the bird of loudest lay,
On the sole Arabian tree,
Herald sad and trumpet be,
To whose sound chaste wings obey.

But thou shrieking harbinger,
Foul precurrer of the fiend,
Augur of the fever’s end,
To this troop come thou not near.

From this session interdict
Every fowl of tyrant wing,
Save the eagle, feather’d king:
Keep the obsequy so strict.

Let the priest in surplice white
That defunctive music can,
Be the death-divining swan,
Lest the requiem lack his right.

And thou treble-dated crow,
That thy sable gender mak’st
With the breath thou giv’st and tak’st,
‘Mongst our mourners shalt thou go.

Here the anthem doth commence:
Love and constancy is dead;
Phœnix and the turtle fled
In a mutual flame from hence.

So they lov’d, as love in twain
Had the essence but in one;
Two distincts, division none:
Number there in love was slain.

Hearts remote, yet not asunder;
Distance, and no space was seen
‘Twixt the turtle and his queen:
But in them it were a wonder.

So between them love did shine,
That the turtle saw his right
Flaming in the phœnix’ sight;
Either was the other’s mine.

Property was thus appall’d,
That the self was not the same;
Single nature’s double name
Neither two nor one was call’d.

Reason, in itself confounded,
Saw division grow together;
To themselves yet either neither,
Simple were so well compounded,

That it cried, ‘How true a twain
Seemeth this concordant one!
Love hath reason, reason none,
If what parts can so remain.’

Whereupon it made this threne
To the phœnix and the dove,
Co-sapremes’ and stars of love,
As chorus to their tragic scene.

THRENOS.

Beauty, truth, and rarity,
Grace in all simplicity,
Here enclos’d in cinders lie.

Death is now the phœnix’ nest;
And the turtle’s loyal breast
To eternity doth rest,

Leaving no posterity:
‘Twas not their infirmity,
It was married chastity.

Truth may seem, but cannot be;
Beauty brag, but ’tis not she;
Truth and beauty buried be.

To this urn let those repair
That are either true or fair;
For these dead birds sigh a prayer.

WHEN my love swears that she is made of truth,
I do believe her, though I know she lies,
That she might think me some untutor’d youth,
Unskilful in the world’s false forgeries.
Thus vainly thinking that she thinks me young,
Although I know my years be past the best,
I smiling credit her false-speaking tongue,
Outfacing faults in love with love’s ill rest.
But wherefore says my love that she is young?
And wherefore say not I that I am old?
O! love’s best habit is a soothing tongue,
And age, in love, loves not to have years told,
Therefore I’ll lie with love, and love with me,
Since that our faults in love thus smother’d be.

II.

Two loves I have of comfort and despair,
Which like two spirits do suggest me still;
The better angel is a man, right fair,
The worser spirit a woman, colour’d ill.
To win me soon to hell, my female evil
Tempteth my better angel from my side,
And would corrupt a saint to be a devil,
Wooing his purity with her fair pride:
And whether that my angel be turn’d fiend
Suspect I may, but not directly tell;
For being both to me, both to each friend,
I guess one angel in another’s hell.
The truth I shall not know, but live in doubt,
Till my bad angel fire my good one out.

III.

Did not the heavenly rhetoric of thine eye,
‘Gainst whom the world could not hold argu-
ment,
Persuade my heart to this false perjury?
Vows for thee broke deserve not punishment.
A woman I forswore; but I will prove,
Thou being a goddess, I forswore not thee:
My vow was earthly, thou a heavenly love;
Thy grace being gain’d cures all disgrace in me.
My vow was breath, and breath a vapour is;
Then thou, fair sun, that on this earth dost shine,
Exhale this vapour vow; in thee it is:
If broken, then it is no fault of mine.
If by me broke, what fool is not so wise
To break an oath, to win a paradise?

IV.

Sweet Cytherea, sitting by a brook
With young Adonis, lovely, fresh, and green,
Did court the lad with many a lovely look,
Such looks as none could look but beauty’s
queen.
She told him stories to delight his ear;
She show’d him favours to allure his eye;
To win his heart, she touch’d him here and
there,—
Touches so soft still conquer chastity.
But whether unripe years did want conceit,
Or he refused to take her figur’d proffer,
The tender nibbler would not touch the bait,
But smile and jest at every gentle offer:
Then fell she on her back, fair queen, and to-
ward:
He rose and ran away; ah! fool too fro ward.

V.

If love make me forsworn, how shall I swear to
love?
O! never faith could hold, if not to beauty
vow’d:
Though to myself forsworn, to thee I’ll constant
prove;
Those thoughts, to me like oaks, to thee like osiers
bow’d.
Study his bias leaves, and makes his book thine
eyes,
Where all those pleasures live that art can
comprehend.
If knowledge be the mark, to know thee shall
suffice;
Well learned is that tongue that well can thee
commend;
All ignorant that soul that sees thee without
wonder;
Which is to me some praise, that I thy parts ad-
mire:
Thine eye Jove’s lightning seems, thy voice his
dreadful thunder,
Which, not to anger bent, is music and sweet
fire,
Celestial as thou art, O! do not love that wrong,
To sing heaven’s praise with such an earthly
tongue.

VI.

Scarce had the sun dried up the dewy morn,
And scarce the herd gone to the hedge for shade,
When Cytherea, all in love forlorn,
A longing tarriance for Adonis made
Under an osier growing by the brock,
A brook where Adon us’d to cool his spleen:
Hot was the day; she hotter that did look
For his approach, that often there had been.
Anon he comes, and throws his mantle by,
And stood stark naked on the brook’s green brim;
The sun look’d on the world with glorious eye,
Yet not so wistly as the queen on him:
He spying her, bounc’d in, whereas he stood:
O Jove,’ quoth she, ‘why was I not a flood!’

VII.

Fair is my love, but not so fair as fickle;
Mild as a dove, but neither true nor trusty;
Brighter than glass, and yet, as glass is, brittle;
Softer than wax, and yet, as iron, rusty:
A lily pale, with damask dye to grace her,
None fairer, nor none falser to deface her.
Her lips to mine how often hath she join’d,
Between each kiss her oaths of true love swearing!
How many tales to please me hath she coin’d,
Dreading my love, the loss thereof still fearing!
Yet in the midst of all her pure protestings,
Her faith, her oaths, her tears, and all were
jestings.
She burn’d with love, as straw with fire flameth;
She burn’d out love, as soon as straw out-burneth;
She fram’d the love, and yet she foil’d the
framing;
She bade love last, and yet she fell a-turning.
Was this a lover, or a lecher whether?
Bad in the best, though excellent in neither.

VIII.

If music and sweet poetry agree,
As they must needs, the sister and the brother,
Then must the love be great ‘twixt thee and me,
Because thou lov’st the one, and I the other.
Dowland to thee is dear, whose heavenly touch
Upon the lute doth ravish human sense;
Spenser to me, whose deep conceit is such
As, passing all conceit, needs no defence.
Thou lov’st to hear the sweet melodious sound
That Phoebus’ lute, the queen of music, makes;
And I in deep delight am chiefly drown’d
Whenas himself to singing he betakes.
One god is god of both, as poets feign;
One knight loves both, and both in thee re-
main.

IX.

Fair was the morn when the fair queen of love,
Paler for sorrow than her milk-white dove,
For Adon’s sake, a youngster proud and wild;
Her stand she takes upon a steep-up hill:
Anon Adonis comes with horn and hounds;
She, silly queen, with more than love’s good will,
Forbade the boy he should not pass those
grounds:
‘Once,’ quoth she, ‘did I see a fair sweet youth
Here in these brakes deep-wounded with a boar,
Deep in the thigh, a spectacle of ruth!
See, in my thigh,’ quoth she, ‘here was the sore.
She showed hers; he saw more wounds than one,
And blushing fled, and left her all alone,

X.

Sweet rose, fair flower, untimely pluck’d, soon
vaded,
Pluck’d in the bud, and vaded in the spring!
Bright orient pearl, alack! too timely shaded;
Fair creature, kill’d too soon by death’s sharp
sting!
Like a green plum that hangs upon a tree,
And falls, through wind, before the fall should
be.
I weep for thee, and yet no cause I have;
For why thou left’st me nothing m thy will:
And yet thou left’s! me more than I did crave;
For why I craved nothing of thee still:
O yes, dear friend, I pardon crave of thee,
Thy discontent thou didst bequeath to me.

XI.

Venus, with young Adonis sitting by her
Under a myrtle shade, began to woo him:
She told the youngling how god Mars did try her,
And as he fell to her, so fell she to him.
‘Even thus,’ quoth she, ‘the war-like god em-
brac’d me,’
And then she clipp’d Adonis in her arms;
‘Even thus,’ quoth she, ‘the war-like god un-
lac’d me,’
As if the boy should use like loving charms.
‘Even thus,’ quoth she, ‘he seized on my lips,’
And with her lips on his did act the seizure;
And as she fetched breath, away he skips,
And would not take her meaning nor her plea-
sure.
Ah! that I had my lady at this bay,
To kiss and clip me till I ran away.

XII.

Crabbed age and youth cannot live together:
Youth is full of pleasure, age is full of care;
Youth like summer morn, age like winter weather;
Youth like summer brave, age like winter bare.
Youth is full of sport, age’s breath is short;
Youth is nimble, age is lame;
Youth is hot and bold, age is weak and cold;
Youth is wild, and age is tame.
Age, I do abhor thee, youth, I do adore thee;
O! my love, my love is young:
Age, I do defy thee: O! sweet shepherd, hie thee,
For methinks thou stay’st too long.

XIII.

Beauty is but a vain and doubtful good;
A shining gloss that vadeth suddenly;
A flower that dies when first it ‘gins to bud;
A brittle glass that’s broken presently:
A doubtful good, a gloss, a glass, a flower,
Lost, vaded, broken, dead within an hour.
And as goods lost are seld or never found,
As vaded gloss no rubbing will refresh,
As flowers dead lie withered on the ground,
As broken glass no cement can redress,
So beauty blemish’d once’s for ever lost,
In spite of physic, painting, pain, and cost.

XIV.

Good night, good rest. Ah! neither be my share:
She bade good night that kept my rest away;
And daff’d me to a cabin hang’d with care,
To descant on the doubts of my decay.
‘Farewell,’ quoth she, ‘and come again to-
morrow:’
Fare well I could not, for I supp’d with sorrow.
Yet at my parting sweetly did she smile,
In scorn of friendship, nill I construe whether:
‘T may be, she joy’d to jest at my exile,
‘T may be, again to make me wander thither:
‘Wander,’ a word for shadows like myself,
As take the pain, but cannot pluck the pelf.
Lord! how mine eyes throw gazes to the east;
My heart doth charge the watch; the morning rise
Doth cite each moving sense from idle rest.
Not daring trust the office of mine eyes,
While Philomela sits and sings, I sit and mark,
And wish her lays were tuned like the lark;
For she doth welcome daylight with her ditty,
And drives away dark dismal-dreaming night:
The night so pack’d, I post unto my pretty;
Heart hath his hope, and eyes their wished sight;
Sorrow chang’d to solace, solace mix’d with
sorrow;
For why, she sigh’d and bade me come to-
morrow.
Were I with her, the night would post too soon;
But now are minutes added to the hours;
To spite me now, each minute seems a moon;
Yet not for me, shine sun to succour flowers!
Pack night, peep day; good day, of night now
borrow:
Short, night, to-night, and length thyself to-
morrow.

FROM off a hill whose concave womb re-worded
A plaintful story from a sistering vale,
My spirits to attend this double voice accorded,
And down I laid to list the sad-tun’d tale;
Ere long espied a fickle maid full pale,
Tearing of papers, breaking rings a-twain,
Storming her world with sorrow’s wind and rain.

Upon her head a platted hive of straw,
Which fortified her visage from the sun,
Whereon the thought might think sometime it
saw
The carcass of a beauty spent and done:
Time had not scythed all that youth begun,
Nor youth all quit; but, spite of heaven’s fell
rage,
Some beauty peep’d through lattice of sear’d age.

Oft did she heave her napkin to her eyne,
Which on it had conceited characters,
Laundering the silken figures in the brine
That season’d woe had pelleted in tears,
And often reading what content it bears;
As often shrieking undistinguish’d woe
In clamours of all size, both high and low.

Sometimes her levell’d eyes their carriage ride,
As they did battery to the spheres intend;
Sometime diverted, their poor balls are tied
To the orbed earth; sometimes they do extend
Their view right on; anon their gazes lend
To every place at once, and nowhere fix’d,
The mind and sight distractedly commix’d.

Her hair, nor loose nor tied in formal plat,
Proclaim’d in her a careless hand of pride;
For some, untuck’d, descended her sheav’d hat,
Hanging her pale and pined cheek beside;
Some in her threaden fillet still did bide,
And true to bondage would not break from
thence
Though slackly braided in loose negligence.

A thousand favours from a maund she drew
Of amber, crystal, and of beaded jet,
Which one by one she in a river threw,
Upon whose weeping margent she was set;
Like usury, applying wet to wet,
Or monarch’s hands that let not bounty fall
Where want cries some, but where excess begs
all.

Of folded schedules had she many a one,
Which she perus’d, sigh’d, tore, and gave the
flood;
Crack’d many a ring of posted gold and
bone,
Bidding them find their sepulchres in mud;
Found yet more letters sadly penn’d in blood,
With sleided silk feat and affectedly
Enswath’d, and seal’d to curious secrecy.

These often bath’d she in her fluxive eyes,
And often kiss’d, and often ‘gan to tear;
Cried ‘O false blood! thou register of lies,
What unapproved witness dost thou bear;
Ink would have seem’d more black and damned
here.’
This said, in top of rage the lines she rents,
Big discontent so breaking their contents.

A reverend man that graz’d his cattle nigh—
Sometime a blusterer, that the ruffle knew
Of court, of city, and had let go by
The swiftest hours, observed as they flew—
Towards this afflicted fancy fastly drew;
And, privileged by age, desires to know
In brief the grounds and motives of her woe.
So slides he down upon his grained bat,
And comely-distant sits he by her side;
When he again desires her, being sat,
Her grievance with his hearing to divide:
If that from him there may be aught applied
Which may her suffering ecstasy assuage,
‘Tis promis’d in the charity of age.

‘Father,’ she says, ‘though in me you behold
The injury of many a blasting hour,
Let it not tell your judgment I am old;
Not age, but sorrow, over me hath power:
I might as yet have been a spreading flower,
Fresh to myself, if I had self-applied
Love to myself and to no love beside.

‘But woe is me! too early I attended
A youthful suit, it was to gain my grace,
Of one by nature’s outwards so commended,
That maidens’ eyes stuck over all his face.
Love lack’d a dwelling, and made him her
place;
And when in his fair parts she did abide,
She was new lodg’d and newly deified.
‘His browny locks did hang in crooked curls,
And every light occasion of the wind
Upon his lips their silken parcels hurls.
What’s sweet to do, to do will aptly find:
Each eye that saw him did enchant the mind,
For on his visage was in little drawn
What largeness thinks in Paradise was sawn.

‘Small show of man was yet upon his chin;
His phoenix down began but to appear
Like unshorn velvet on that termless skin
Whose bare out-bragg’d the web it seem’d to wear;
Yet show’d his visage by that cost more dear,
And nice affections wavering stood in doubt
If best were as it was, or best without.

‘His qualities were beauteous as his form,
For maiden-tongu’d he was, and thereof free;
Yet, if men mov’d him, was he such a storm
As oft ‘twixt May and April is to see,
When winds breathe sweet, unruly though they be.
His rudeness so with his authoriz’d youth
Did livery falseness in a pride of truth.

‘Well could he ride, and often men would say
“That horse his mettle from his rider takes:
Proud of subjection, noble by the sway,
What rounds, what bounds, what course, what
stop he makes!”
And controversy hence a question takes,
Whether the horse by him became his deed,
Or he his manage by the well-doing steed.

‘But quickly on this side the verdict went:
His real habitude gave life and grace
To appertainings and to ornament,
Accomplish’d in himself, not in his case:
All aids, themselves made fairer by their place,
Came for additions; yet their purpos’d trim
Piec’d not his grace, but were all grac’d by him.

‘So on the tip of his subduing tongue
All kind of arguments and question deep,
All replication prompt, and reason strong,
For his advantage still did wake and sleep:
To make the weeper laugh, the laugher weep,
He had the dialect and different skill,
Catching all passions in his craft of will:

‘That he did in the general bosom reign
Of young, of old; and sexes both enchanted,
To dwell with him in thoughts, or to remain
In personal duty, following where he haunted:
Consents bewitch’d, ere he desire, have granted;
And dialogu’d for him what he would say,
Ask’d their own wills, and made their wills obey.

‘Many there were that did his picture get,
To serve their eyes, and in it put their mind;
Like fools that in the imagination set
The goodly objects which abroad they find
Of lands and mansions, theirs in thought as-
sign’d;
And labouring in more pleasures to bestow them
Than the true gouty landlord which doth owe
them.

‘So many have, that never touch’d his hand,
Sweetly suppos’d them mistress of his heart.
My woeful self, that did in freedom stand,
And was my own fee-simple, not in part,
What with his art in youth, and youth in art,
Threw my affections in his charmed power,
Reserv’d the stalk and gave him all my flower.

‘Yet did I not, as some my equal? did,
Demand of him, nor being desired yielded;
Finding myself in honour so forbid,
With safest distance I mine honour shielded.
Experience for me many bulwarks builded
Of proofs new-Needing, which remain’d the foil
Of this false jewel, and his amorous spoil.

‘But, ah! who ever shunn’d by precedent
The destin’d ill she must herself assay?
Or forc’d examples, ‘gainst her own content,
To put the by-pass’d perils in her way?
Counsel may stop awhile what will not stay;
For when we rage, advice is often seen
By blunting us to make our wits more keen.

‘Nor gives it satisfaction to our blood,
That we must curb it upon others’ proof;
To be forbid the sweets that seem so good,
For fear of harms that preach in our behoof.
O appetite! from judgment stand aloof;
The one a palate hath that needs will taste,
Though Reason weep, and cry “It is thy last.”

‘For further I could say “This man’s untrue,”
And knew the patterns of his foul beguiling;
Heard where his plants in others’ orchards
grew,
Saw how deceits were gilded in his smiling;
Knew vows were ever brokers to defiling;
Thought characters and words merely but art,
And bastards of his foul adulterate heart.

‘And long upon these terms I held my city,
Till thus he ‘gan besiege me: “Gentle maid,
Have of my suffering youth some feeling pity,
And be not of my holy vows afraid:
That’s to ye sworn to none was ever said;
For feasts of love I have been call’d unto,
Till now did ne’er invite, nor never woo.

‘ “All my offences that abroad you see
Are errors of the blood, none of the mind;
Love made them not: with acture they may
be,
Where neither party is nor true nor kind:
They sought their shame that so their shame
did find,
And so much less of shame in me remains,
By how much of me their reproach contains.

‘ “Among the many that mine eyes have seen,
Not one whose flame my heart so much as warm’d,
Or my affection put to the smallest teen,
Or any of my leisures ever charm’d;
Harm have I done to them, but ne’er was harm’d;
Kept hearts in liveries, but mine own was free,
And reign’d, commanding in his monarchy.

‘ “Look here, what tributes wounded fancies
sent me,
Of paled pearls and rubies red as blood;
Figuring that they their passions likewise lent me
Of grief and blushes, aptly understood
In bloodless white and the encrimson’d mood;
Effects of terror and dear modesty,
Encamp’d in hearts, but fighting outwardly.

‘ “And, lo! behold these talents of their hair,
With twisted metal amorously impleach’d,
I have receiv’d from many a several fair,
Their kind acceptance weepingly beseech’d,
With the annexions of fair gems enrich’d,
And deep-brain’d sonnets, that did amplify
Each stone’s dear nature, worth, and quality.

‘ “The diamond; why, ’twas beautiful and hard,
Whereto his invis’d properties did tend;
The deep-green emerald, in whose fresh regard
Weak sights their sickly radiance do amend;
The heaven-hued sapphire and the opal blend
With objects manifold: each several stone,
With wit well blazon’d, smil’d or made some moan.

‘ “Lo! all these trophies of affections hot,
Of pensiv’d and subdued desires the tender,
Nature hath charg’d me that I hoard them not,
But yield them up where I myself must render,
That is, to you, my origin and ender;
For these, of force, must your oblations be,
Since I their altar, you enpatron me.

‘ “O! then, advance of yours that phraseless hand,
Whose white weighs down the airy scale of praise;
Take all these similes to your own command,
Hallow’d with sighs that burning lungs did raise;
What me your minister, for you obeys,
Works under you; and to your audit comes
Their distract parcels in combined sums.

‘ “Lo! this device was sent me from a nun,
Or sister sanctified, of holiest note;
Which late her noble suit in court did shun,
Whose rarest havings made the blossoms dote;
For she was sought by spirits of richest coat,
But kept cold distance, and did thence remove,
To spend her living in eternal love.

‘ “But, O my sweet! what labour is’t to leave
The thing we have not, mastering what not
strives,
Paling the place which did no form receive,
Playing patient sports in unconstrained gyves?
She that her fame so to herself contrives,
The scars of battle ’scapeth by the flight,
And makes her absence valiant, not hur might.

‘ “O! pardon me, in that my boast is true;
The accident which brought me to her eye
Upon the moment did her force subdue,
And now she would the caged cloister fly;
Religious love put out Religion’s eye:
Not to be tempted, would she be immur’d,
And now, to tempt, all liberty procur’d

‘ “How mighty then you are, O! hear me tell:
The broken bosoms that to me belong
Have emptied all their fountains in my well,
And mine I pour your ocean all among:
I strong o’er them, and you o’er me being strong,
Must for your victory us all congest,
As compound love to physic your cold breast.

‘ “My parts had power to charm a sacred nun,
Who, disciplin’d, ay, dieted in grace,
Believ’d her eyes when they to assail begun,
All vows and consecrations giving place.
O most potential love! vow, bond, nor space,
In thee hath neither sting, knot, nor confine,
For thou art all, and all things else are thine.

‘ “When thou impressest, what are precepts
worth
Of stale example? When thou wilt inflame,
How coldly those impediments stand forth
Of wealth, of filial fear, law, kindred, fame!
Love’s arms are peace, ‘gainst rule, ‘gainst sense,
‘gainst shame,
And sweetens, in the suffering pangs it bears,
The aloes of all forces, shocks, and fears.

‘ “Now all these hearts that do on mine depend,
Feeling it break, with bleeding groans they pine;
And supplicant their sighs to you extend,
To leave the battery that you make ‘gainst
mine,
Lending soft audience to my sweet design,
And credent soul to that strong-bonded oath
That shall prefer and undertake my troth.”
‘This said, his watery eyes he did dismount,
Whose sights till then were levell’d on my face;
Each cheek a river running from a fount
With brinish current downward flow’d apace.
O! how the channel to the stream gave grace;
Who glaz’d with crystal gate the glowing roses
That flame through water which their hue en-
closes.

‘O father! what a hell of witchcraft lies
In the small orb of one particular tear,
But with the inundation of the eyes
What rocky heart to water will not wear?
What breast so cold that is not warmed here?
O cleft effect! cold modesty, hot wrath,
Both fire from hence and chill extincture hath.
‘For, lo! his passion, but an art of craft,
Even there resolv’d my reason into tears;
There my white stole of chastity I daff’d,
Shook off my sober guards and civil fears;
Appear to him, as he to me appears,
All melting; though our drops this difference
bore,
His poison’d me, and mine did him restore.

‘In him a plenitude of subtle matter,
Applied to cautels, all strange forms receives,
Of burning blushes, or of weeping water,
Or swounding paleness; and he takes and leaves,
In either’s aptness, as it best deceives,
To blush at speeches rank, to weep at woes,
Or to turn white and swound at tragic shows:

‘That not a heart which in his level came
Could ’scape the hail of his all-hurting aim,
Showing fair nature is both kind and tame;
And, veil’d in them, did win whom he would maim:
Against the thing he sought he would exclaim;
When he most burn’d in heart-wish’d luxury.
He preach’d pure maid, and prais’d cold chastity.

‘Thus merely with the garment of a Grace
The naked and concealed fiend he cover’d;
That the unexperient gave the tempter place,
Which like a cherubin above them hover’d.
Who, young and simple, would not be so lover’d?
Ay me! I fell; and yet do question make
What I should do again for such a sake.

‘O! that infected moisture of his eye,
O! that false fire which in his cheek so glow’d,
O! that forc’d thunder from his heart did fly,
O! that sad breath his spongy lungs bestow’d,
O! all that borrow’d motion seeming ow’d,
Would yet again betray the fore-betray’d,
And new pervert a reconciled maid.’

Titus Andronicus Play

Titus Andronicus begins with Roman General Titus, returning to Rome, victorious after a ten year war against the Goths. The late Emperor has died, Saturninus the eldest son wanting to become Emperor, his brother Bassanius arguing for an election he hopes to win. Instead, Titus is elected Emperor by the Senate in recognition of his military services to Rome. The General declines, instead choosing Saturninus over Bassanius to be the new Emperor. Saturninus now makes Titus’ daughter Lavinia his new empress despite her preferring Bassanius. Amongst the general’s prisoners are Queen Tamara and sons Alarbus, Demetrius and Chiron. Alarbus is quickly slain by Titus’ sons to appease the Roman Gods. Tamara curses all Romans as a result.

Saturninus falls in love with Tamara at first sight and who sets her sons free… Bassanius then declares his love of Lavinia, Titus telling Bassanius she should stay with the Emperor. Bassanius ignores this, fleeing with Lavinia only to have Titus kill his son Mutius for breaking an order. Saturninus now declares Tamara will be his new empress instead of Lavinia to the General’s complete surprise. Tamara with Aaron (a Moor), her real lover, hopes to bring about Titus’ downfall. Saturninus accuses his brother of treason but Tamara convinces the Emperor to overlook this and the murder of Mutius, resolving to kill them all later… Tamara’s surviving sons Demetrius and Chiron who both love Lavinia despite her loving Bassanius, find Bassanius in the forest, quickly killing him. Next they rape Titus’ daughter Lavinia, then cut out her tongue and hands. Miraculously, she survives… Aaron sets up Titus’ sons Quintus and Martius for Bassanius’ murder.

Titus begs for mercy but his pleas fall on the Emperor’s deaf ears… Titus’ other son, Lucius attempts to free Quintus and Martius only to be banished from Rome as a result. Lavinia is discovered, Aaron telling Titus that Emperor Saturninus will spare his son’s lives for the murder of his brother Bassanius if and only if someone cuts off one of his hands and sends it to the Emperor. Titus duly cuts off his hand only to receive sons Quintus and Martius’ heads along with his severed hand. Seeing his son’s heads and realising he mutilated himself for nothing, Titus sends remaining son Lucius to the Goths to raise an army to sack Rome.

True to his father’s wishes, Lucius has raised an army. Lavinia too has managed to communicate to Titus who mutilated her, Titus, now close to madness, successfully luring Demetrius and Chiron into a trap where he tells them he knows what they did and darkly tells them their fate in which he decides to make a pie from their remains… Tamara gives birth to Aaron’s son. Lucius captures Aaron’s baby, Aaron admitting all to save the baby. Titus reveals he is not mad at all. Tamara and Emperor Saturninus attempt to convince Titus to stop Lucius and the Goths from sacking Rome. Titus suggests they have dinner… During the dinner, Titus kills Lavinia in an act of mercy, then reveals to his guests what the pie they are eating is made of… Next, Titus kills Tamara, Saturninus then killing Titus, Lucius then killing Saturninus. Lucius is made Emperor, ordering Aaron to be buried in sand to his head, then left to starve to death. For Tamara, Lucius decides to have her body left unburied so scavengers may tear her body to pieces…

Timon of Athens Play

Timon of Athens tells the tale of a kind and generous aristocrat, too generous in fact; it seems all around him need of his money… Unsurprisingly, Timons is very well liked, painters, poets and jewellers alike plying him with gifts. He lends money to others in trouble (Noble Ventidius), even underwriting servant Lucilius who wants to marry an old Athenian’s daughter.

Naturally our aristocratic benefactor holds another of his great feasts, all around him merrily eating and drinking away. Timons, though is just happy to be amongst his friends… Not content just to share a feast, Timons showers jewels upon everyone. No one minds except his steward Flavius who believes his master to be too generous and notes our aristocrat is steadily indebting himself. The philosopher Apemantus privately shares this view. Now facing creditors, Flavius telsl his master he is bankrupt. Our aristocrat asks his friends to lend him money; all offer excuses instead…. Though increasingly worried, the nobleman does not give up hope yet, remembering his friends have always helped him before…. Instead the servants of his many “friends” demand payment of their debts! The Senate decide that Timon should die for failing to pay his debts.

A captain of Athens named Alciabides trys valiantly without success to overturn this death sentence over one of his men given by the Senate. For his trouble Alciabides is banished but decides to have the last laugh by planning to sack Athens with his army in revenge. Infuriated by his friends refusal to help him, our nobleman invites his “friends” to one last feast only to serve them warm water, throwing it in their faces, Timons’ denouncing not only these “friends” but all mankind, deciding to head for the woods. This earns him the reputation of a madman.

Learning of the noblemans’ fate, Alciabides befriends the aristocrat, now living as a hermit, hunting for mere scrubs with which to eat. Ironically the hermit has come across a great hoard of gold. The hermit now insults Alciabides for the crime of being a man, so deep is the hermits’ hatred. Alciabides tries to offer the hermit money but instead the hermit makes him an offer; Alciabides may have the gold if he sacks Athens. Accepting some of this gold to pay his troops, Alciabides sets off for Athens.

The Hermit meets Apemantus, the two getting along since they both hate mankind. Apermentus relays the hermit’s message to Athens that he has found a great hoard of gold. Now bandits arrive, the hermit too offering them gold should they bring havoc upon Athens. Unfortunately the hermit’s venomous ranting convinces these bandits to give up their thieving ways. Realising Flavius his old steward to be one of the few honest men left, the hermit even sends him packing, though with gold.

Meanwhile Alciabides reaches Athens, the desperate Athenians begging the hermit for help, but the hermit instead kindly offers them a tree with which to hang themselves! Desperate, the Senate placate Alciabides by offering up Alciabides’ enemies and those who refused to help the hermit out of his debt. Alciabides says he seeks reparations only from the hermit’s “friends.” Unfortunately though it seems the hermit has finally been avenged, a lone soldier announces that the once popular nobleman has passed away alone in his cave, uncared for by anyone. Alcibides reads aloud the hermit’s own scrawled epitgraph, asking all to remember this generous man…

Romeo and Juliet Play

Romeo and Juliet, arguably Shakespeare’s most famous play, begins with a Prologue explaining that the children of two feuding families, Romeo of the Montague family and Juliet of the Capulet family, will both love and die in the course of this play… Sampson and Gregory, servants to the Capulets and Abraham and Balthasar, servants to the Montagues, start a street fight, which is joined by Benvolio (Montague) and Tybalt (Capulet). Escalus, the Prince of Verona declares a death penalty for further feuding between the two families… Meanwhile Capulet (Juliet’s father) is keen for Paris to marry his daughter and plans a party, Romeo and friends deciding to turn up uninvited… At the Capulet party, Romeo disguised by a mask, falls in love with Juliet, both quickly learning that they are the enemies of each other’s family…

Ignoring the danger, Romeo scales the Capulet’s wall to be near Juliet and hidden in her orchard, learns Juliet loves him, the two deciding to marry. Friar Laurence agrees to marry the two lovers since he hopes this will end the long running Montague / Capulet feud… The wedding is set for later that day. The Nurse brings Romeo ropes, allowing him to climb into his lover’s bedchamber as her husband later that night… The two lovers marry… Benvolio and Mercutio (Montague) meet Tybalt (Capulet). Tybalt kills Mercutio, Romeo then killing Tybalt and becoming banished from Verona. Juliet learns of Tybalt’s death, mourning her husband’s banishment, her husband mourning that he will not be able to see his wife again… Capulet, unaware of the marriage, decides that his daughter should marry Paris on Thursday. The two lovers spend the night together. Juliet, learning that she is to marry Paris, tries to fight her father’s wishes, failing. She decides to commit suicide if all else fails…

Friar Laurence tells Juliet to take a potion simulating death, allowing her to live with her husband unopposed in Mantua since everyone will think she is dead. Hearing that his daughter no longer opposes the wedding, Capulet, decides to move the wedding forward. It will now be on Wednesday… Juliet takes the potion, worrying about the Friar’s intentions before the potion takes effect and she falls asleep… Capulet, hearing Paris’ arrival, tells the Nurse to wake his daughter, discovering she is dead. The wedding preparations are changed to those of a funeral… In Mantua, Romeo learning of his wife’s death, decides to risk his life by returning to Verona to see her one last time. He also buys some poison… Friar Laurence’s letter, telling Romeo that his wife is not dead does not reach him. Friar Laurence heads off to the Capulet burial chamber where Juliet will soon awake. Paris mourns his bride that never was. Romeo arrives, opening his lover’s coffin to look at her one last time, Paris then attacking him, believing he is desecrating Juliet’s grave…

Romeo kills Paris, placing him beside his wife and then takes his poison, kissing his wife, then dying. Friar Laurence arrives too late to stop the suicide. Juliet, now awake, asks for her husband… Now alone, she kisses her husband and stabs herself, dying. Escalus, the Capulets and the Montagues arrive, Balthasar and Friar Laurence explaining all. Escalus scolds the two families who finally end their feud. The play ends with the Prince summarising this tragic love story.

Othello Play

Othello begins with Iago, a soldier arguing with Roderigo, a wealthy Venetian who has paid Iago to spy on Othello, since he wishes to take this man’s girlfriend, Desdemona himself. He suspects Iago has not been keeping his end of the bargain. Iago reveals his hatred of Othello for choosing Cassio as his officer, not him. To regain Roderigo’s trust, Iago and Roderigo inform Brabantio, Desdemona’s father of her relationship with Othello, infuriating Brabantio. Othello explains how he and Desdemona fell in love, the two marrying. Othello is ordered to Cypress to fight the Turks. Roderigo gives up on Desdemona but Iago tells him not to since he wants to keep taking his money. Iago explains his plan to avenge Othello by suggesting Cassio is sleeping with Desdemona. Iago tells Roderigo he still has a chance with Desdemona but Cassio stands in his way.

Iago informs Othello that Cassio is having an affair with Desdemona. Iago then tells Roderigo to attack Cassio, Cassio wounding Roderigo. Cassio is demoted. Iago suggests Cassio speak with Desdemona. Some time later, Cassio speaks with Desdemona who resolves to keep putting in a good word for Cassio until he is an officer again. Othello complains of a headache to Desdemona, resulting in her dropping a handkerchief, his first gift to her. Iago makes sure Cassio finds this. Othello demands proof of Desdemona’s infidelity from Iago. Reluctantly Iago tells him he saw Cassio wipe his brow with Desdemona’s handkerchief. Convinced, Iago is promoted to lieutenant and ordered to kill Cassio. Meanwhile, Desdemona worries about her missing handkerchief, knowing it could make her husband doubt her fidelity. Sure enough she is asked for the handkerchief by her suspicious husband but cannot find it… Iago now suggests Desdemona shared her bed with Cassio. Iago then talks to Cassio about Cassio’s mistress Bianca, each smile and gesture infuriating a hidden Othello who thinks Cassio is talking about sleeping with Desdemona. Bianca then arrives, angrily giving back Desdemona’s handkerchief that Cassio gave her. Furious, Othello decides to kill Desdemona in her bed, Iago’s idea. We learn Iago has been pocketing Roderigo’s gifts for Desdemona. Fearing Roderigo will learn this, Iago tells him that Cassio must die…

Desdemona is ordered by her husband to wait for him in bed… Desdemona, depressed, recalls a song of a maid who was similarly abused by her husband. Iago tells Roderigo how to kill Cassio. Roderigo attacks Cassio but Cassio wounds Roderigo. Iago from behind, stabs Cassio, wounding him in the leg. Seizing Roderigo, Iago stabs and wounds him “in revenge” for wounding his “friend” Cassio. Bianca arrives, Iago blaming Cassio’s injuries on her… Desdemona’s jealous husband arrives, trying to convince himself that he is killing her for her own good. Desdemona awakens, asking what wrong she has committed, her husband telling her that she gave Cassio his handkerchief, meaning he thinks she had an affair. Desdemona pleads her innocence, saying Cassio can prove her innocence. Her husband replies Cassio confessed and is dead, then kills Desdemona. Emilia reveals Iago has killed Roderigo, Desdemona not revealing who killed her before dying. Othello tells Emilia he killed Desdemona, Emilia despite Iago’s frantic attempts to stop her, revealing that she found the hankerchief and gave it to Iago. Iago stabs Emilia, escaping, Emilia dying. Iago is captured, Othello stabbing but not killing him before having his sword removed. Lodovico learns of the plot against Cassio. Iago proudly confirming that Cassio found the handkerchief because Iago wanted him to. Othello, realising what he has done, kills himself, lying on top of his wife. Cassio is placed in charge of Iago, Lodovico leaving to discuss this sad matter…