O hell! to choose love with another's eye.

Beauty within itself should not be wasted.

You lack the season of all natures, sleep.

where civil blood makes civil hands unclean

A golden mind stoops not to shows of dross.

Few love to hear the sins they love to act.

Society is no comfort, to one not sociable.

Tis time to fear when tyrants seem to kiss.

Demand me nothing: what you know, you know.

A scar nobly got is a good livery of honor.

In scorn of nature, art gave lifeless life.

What ugly sights of death within mine eyes!

Were't not for laughing, I should pity him.

Though Death be poor, it ends a mortal woe.

Why should honor outlive honestly? Orthello

Here was a Caesar! When comes such another?

Now I will believe that there are unicorns.

The sudden hand of Death close up mine eye!

A good man's fortune may grow out at heels.

To be once in doubt Is once to be resolved.

Tis in ourselves that we are thus, or thus.

The sense of death is most in apprehension.

Love will not be spurred to what it loathes

Hide not thy poison with such sugar'd words

Virtue is bold, and goodness never fearful.

Bondage is hoarse, and may not speak aloud.

The present eye praises the present object.

But men are men; the best sometimes forget.

The sun with one eye vieweth all the world.

He thinks too much. Such men are dangerous.

My stronger guilt defeats my strong intent.

Fie, fie, how frantically I square my talk!

The golden age is before us, not behind us.

Men shut their doors against a setting sun.

I can hardly forbear hurling things at him.

No profit grows where no pleasure is taken.

The bitter past, more welcome is the sweet.

I'll look to like; if looking, liking move.

For I am proverbed with a grandsire phrase.

A countenance more in sorrow than in anger.

It is lost at dice, what ancient honor won.

I am a man more sinned against than sinning

Scorn, at first, makes after-love the more.

My life, my joy, my food, my ail the world!

Music, moody food Of us that trade in love.

I have pursued her, as love hath pursued me

Thou shalt not stir one foot to seek a foe.

For love, thou know'st, is full of jealousy

If love be blind, it best agrees with night

Love denied blights the soul we owe to God.

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