Emotions and Feelings

The wounds invisible That love’s keen arrows make.

Oppress’d with two weak evils, age and hunger.

True is it that we have seen better days.

But whate’er you are That in this desert inaccessible, Under the shade of melancholy boughs, Lose and neglect the creeping hours of time; If ever you have look’d on better days, If ever been where bells have knoll’d to church, If ever sat at any good man’s feast, If ever from your eyelids wip’d a tear, And know what ’tis to pity, and be pitied, Let gentleness my strong enforcement be.

But whate’er you are That in this desert inaccessible, Under the shade of melancholy boughs, Lose and neglect the creeping hours of time; If ever you have look’d on better days, If ever been where bells have knoll’d to church, If ever sat at any good man’s feast, If ever from your eyelids wip’d a tear, And know what ’tis to pity, and be pitied, Let gentleness my strong enforcement be.

Motley’s the only wear.

My lungs began to crow like chanticleer, That fools should be so deep-contemplative, And I did laugh sans intermission An hour by his dial.

My lungs began to crow like chanticleer, That fools should be so deep-contemplative, And I did laugh sans intermission An hour by his dial.

I met a fool i’ the forest, A motley fool.

Who doth ambition shun, And loves to live i’ the sun, Seeking the food he eats, And pleas’d with what he gets.

If you remember’st not the slightest folly That ever love did make thee run into, Thou hast not lov’d.

Though I look old, yet I am strong and lusty; For in my youth I never did apply Hot and rebellious liquors in my blood.

Therefore my age is as a lusty winter, Frosty, but kindly.

And He that doth the ravens feed, Yea, providently caters for the sparrow, Be comfort to my age!

Sweet are the uses of adversity, Which, like the toad, ugly and venomous, Wears yet a precious jewel in his head; And this our life exempt from public haunt, Finds tongues in trees, books in the running brooks, Sermons in stones, and good in everything.

The big round tears Cours’d one another down his innocent nose In piteous chase.

We’ll have a swashing and a martial outside, As many other mannish cowards have.

We’ll have a swashing and a martial outside, As many other mannish cowards have.

My pride fell with my fortunes.

Hereafter, in a better world than this, I shall desire more love and knowledge of you.

This was the noblest Roman of them all.

A friend should bear his friend’s infirmities, But Brutus makes mine greater than they are.

There is no terror, Cassius, in your threats; For I am arm’d so strong in honesty That they pass by me as the idle wind, Which I respect not.

I’ll use you for my mirth, yea, for my laughter, When you are waspish.