"For valour, is not Love a Hercules, Still climbing trees in the Hesperides? Subtle as Sphinx; as sweet and musical As bright Apollo’s lute, strung with his hair; And when Love speaks, the voice of all the gods Make heaven drowsy with the harmony."

"Never durst poet touch a pen to write Until his ink were temper’d with Love’s sighs."

"For charity itself fulfils the law, And who can sever love from charity?"

"Allons! allons! Sow’d cockle reap’d no corn."

"He draweth out the thread of his verbosity finer than the staple of his argument."

"I abhor such fanatical phantasimes, such insociable and point-devise companions; such rackers of orthography."

"In the posteriors of this day, which the rude multitude call the afternoon."

"Had she been light, like you, Of such a merry, nimble, stirring spirit, She might ha’ been a grandam ere she died: And so may you; for a light heart lives long."

"Princess: None are so surely caught, when they are catch’d, As wit turn’d fool: folly, in wisdom hatch’d, Hath wisdom’s warrant and the help of school, And wit’s own grace to grace a learned fool. Rosaline: The blood of youth burns not with such excess As gravity’s revolt to wantonness. Maria: Folly in fools bears not so strong a note As foolery in the wise, when wit doth dote; Since all the power thereof it doth apply To prove, by wit, worth in simplicity."

"Muster your wits; stand in your own defence; Or hide your heads like cowards, and fly hence."

"Fair ladies mask’d are roses in their bud; Dismask’d, their damask sweet commixture shown, Are angels vailing clouds, or roses blown."

"The ladies call him sweet; The stairs, as he treads on them, kiss his feet."

"Taffeta phrases, silken terms precise, Three-piled hyperboles, spruce affectation, Figures pedantical; these summer-flies Have blown me full of maggot ostentation."

"Henceforth my wooing mind shall be express’d In russet yeas, and honest kersey noes: And, to begin, wench,—so God help me, la!— My love to thee is sound, sans crack or flaw."

"A heavy heart bears not a nimble tongue."

"To wail friends lost Is not by much so wholesome-profitable As to rejoice at friends but newly found."

"A world-without-end bargain."

"That instant shut My woeful self up in a mourning house, Raining the tears of lamentation."

"When daisies pied and violets blue And lady-smocks all silver-white And cuckoo-buds of yellow hue Do paint the meadows with delight, The cuckoo then, on every tree, Mocks married men; for thus sings he, Cuckoo; Cuckoo, cuckoo: O word of fear, Unpleasing to a married ear! When shepherds pipe on oaten straws, And merry larks are ploughmen’s clocks, When turtles tread, and rooks, and daws, And maidens bleach their summer smocks, The cuckoo then, on every tree, Mocks married men; for thus sings he, Cuckoo; Cuckoo, cuckoo: O word of fear, Unpleasing to a married ear!"

"When icicles hang by the wall, And Dick the shepherd blows his nail, And Tom bears logs into the hall, And milk comes frozen home in pail, When blood is nipp’d and ways be foul, Then nightly sings the staring owl, Tu-whit; Tu-who, a merry note, While greasy Joan doth keel the pot. When all aloud the wind doth blow, And coughing drowns the parson’s saw, And birds sit brooding in the snow, And Marian’s nose looks red and raw, When roasted crabs hiss in the bowl, Then nightly sings the staring owl, Tu-whit; Tu-who, a merry note, While greasy Joan doth keel the pot."

"Love's Labour Lost! I once did see a play Y-cleped so, so called to my paine, Which I to heare to my small joy did stay, Giving attendance on my froward dame: My misgiving minde presaging to me ill, Yet was I drawne to see it 'gainst my will. This play no play, but plague, was unto me, For there I lost the love I liked most; And what to others seemde a jest to be, I that in earnest found unto my cost. To every one, save me, 'twas comicall. While tragick-like to me it did befall. Each actor plaid in cunning wise his part, But chiefly those entrapt in Cupid's snare; Yet all was fained, 'twas not from the hart, They seeme to grieve, but yet they felt no care; 'Twas I that griefe indeed did beare in brest: The others did but make a shew in jest."

"I have sent and bene all thys morning huntyng for players Juglers & Such kinde of Creaturs, but fynde them harde to finde, wherfore Leavinge notes for them to seeke me, Burbage ys come, & sayes ther ys no new playe that the quene hath not seene, but they have revyved an olde one, Cawled Loves Labore lost, which for wytt & mirthe he sayes will please her exceedingly. And Thys ys apointed to be playd to Morowe night at my Lord of Sowthamptons, unless yow send a wrytt to Remove the Corpus Cum Causa to your howse in Strande. Burbage ys my messenger Ready attendyng your pleasure."

"Assist me some extemporal god of rhyme, for I am sure I shall turn sonnet."

"A high hope for a low heaven: God grant us patience!"

"A man in all the world’s new fashion planted, That hath a mint of phrases in his brain."

"About the sixth hour; when beasts most graze, birds best peck, and men sit down to that nourishment which is called supper."

"Why, all delights are vain; but that most vain, Which, with pain purchased, doth inherit pain: As, painfully to pore upon a book To seek the light of truth; while truth the while Doth falsely blind the eyesight of his look: Light, seeking light, doth light of light beguile: So, ere you find where light in darkness lies, Your light grows dark by losing of your eyes."

"Biron: What is the end of study? let me know. King: Why, that to know, which else we should not know. Biron: Things hid and barr’d, you mean, from common sense? King: Ay, that is study’s god-like recompense."

"Biron: Study is like the heaven’s glorious sun, That will not be deep-search’d with saucy looks: Small have continual plodders ever won, Save base authority from others’ books. These earthly godfathers of heaven’s lights, That give a name to every fixèd star, Have no more profit of their shining nights Than those that walk and wot not what they are. Too much to know, is to know nought but fame; And every godfather can give a name. King: How well he’s read, to reason against reading!"

"‘That unlettered small-knowing soul.’"

"Devise, wit; write, pen; for I am for whole volumes in folio."

"I thought he slept, and put My clouted brogues from off my feet."

"Fear no more the heat o' the sun Nor the furious winter's rages; Thou thy worldly task hast done, Home art gone, and ta'en thy wages: Golden lads and girls all must, As chimney-sweepers, come to dust."

"By Jupiter, an angel! or, if not, An earthly paragon! Behold divineness No elder than a boy."

"Weariness Can snore upon the flint, when resty sloth Finds the down pillow hard."

"Triumphs for nothing, and lamenting toys, Is jollity for apes and grief for boys."

"O, the charity of a penny cord! it sums up thousands in a trice."

"With fairest flowers, Whilst summer lasts, and I live here, Fidele, I'll sweeten thy sad grave; thou shall not lack The flower that's like thy face, pale primrose, nor The azur'd harebell, like thy veins."

"Our court shall be a little Academe, Still and contemplative in living art."

"Fat paunches have lean pates; and dainty bits Make rich the ribs, but bankrupt quite the wits."

"Come on, then; I will swear to study so, To know the thing I am forbid to know: As thus,—to study where I well may dine, When I to feast expressly am forbid; Or study where to meet some mistress fine, When mistresses from common sense are hid."

"Or having sworn too hard a keeping oath, Study to break it, and not break my troth."

"At Christmas I no more desire a rose, Than wish a snow in May’s new-fangled shows; But like of each thing that in season grows."

"So study evermore is overshot: While it doth study to have what it would, It doth forget to do the thing it should; And when it hath the thing it hunteth most, ’Tis won as towns with fire, so won, so lost."

"One whom the music of his own vain tongue Doth ravish like enchanting harmony."

"It is no act of common passage, but A strain of rareness."