I do profess to be no less than I seem; to serve him truly that will put me in trust: to love him that is honest; to converse with him that is wise, and says little; to fear judgment; to fight when I cannot choose; and to eat no fish.
I do profess to be no less than I seem; to serve him truly that will put me in trust: to love him that is honest; to converse with him that is wise, and says little; to fear judgment; to fight when I cannot choose; and to eat no fish.
Look to her, Moor, if thou has eyes to see. She has deceived her father, and may thee.
Oh, what fools these mortals be!
Who is it that can tell me who I am?
I hold the world but as the world, Gratiano!
And some that smile have in their hearts, I fear, millions of mischiefs.
Some Cupid kills with arrows, some with traps.
Sit by my side, and let the world slip: we shall ne'er be younger.
Love's not love when it is mingled with regards that stand aloof from the entire point.
Rude am I in my speech, And little blessed with the soft phrase of peace.
Therefore another prologue must tell he is not a lion
For which of my bad parts didst thou first fall in love with me?
I will do anything ... ere I'll be married to a sponge.
As I love the name of honour more than I fear death.
Tax not so bad a voice to slander music any more than once.
The poorest service is repaid with thanks.
More fools know Jack Fool than Jack Fool knows.
The robb'd that smiles, steals something from the thief; He robs himself that spends a bootless grief.
Though she be but little, she is fierce!
I do love nothing in the world so well as you- is not that strange?
The sins of the father are to be laid upon the children.
But are not some whole that we must make sick?
Thou and I are too wise to woo peaceably.
We will have rings and things and fine array
Ay, in the temple, in the town, the field, You do me mischief. Fie, Demetrius! Your wrongs do set a scandal on my sex: We cannot fight for love, as men ay do; We should be woo'd, and were not made to woo. I'll follow thee, and make a heaven of hell, To die upon the hand I love so well.
Nor are those empty-hearthed whose low sound reverbs no hollowness.
This look of thine will hurl my soul from heaven.
But it is a melancholy of mine own, compounded of many simples, extracted from many objects, and indeed the sundry contemplation of my travels, which, by often rumination, wraps me in the most humorous sadness.
I had rather hear my dog bark at a crow, than a man swear he loves me.
This making of Christians will raise the price of hogs.
© 2020 Inspirational Stories
© 2020 Inspirational Stories