A Quote by William Shakespeare

Thou mak'st me merry: I am full of pleasure; let us be jocund — © William Shakespeare
Thou mak'st me merry: I am full of pleasure; let us be jocund
Thou dost conspire against thy friend, Iago, If thou but think'st him wronged, and mak'st his ear A stranger to thy thoughts.
Envy not greatness: for thou mak'st thereby Thyself the worse, and so the distance greater.
Let me set my mournful ditty To a merry measure; Thou wilt never come for pity, Thou wilt come for pleasure; Pity then will cut away Those cruel wings, and thou wilt stay.
Know'st thou yesterday, its aim and reason? Work'st thou will today for worthier things? Then calmly wait the morrow's hidden season, And fear thou not, what hap soe'er it brings
Fear not, Cesario, take thy fortunes up. Be that thou know'st thou art and then thou art as great as that thou fear'st.
Thou breeze, That mak'st an organ of the mighty sea, Obedient to thy wilful phantasies, Provoke him not to scorn; but soft and low, As pious maid awakes her aged sire, On tiptoe stealing, whisper in his ear The tidings of the young god's victory.
Thou call'st me dog before thou hadst a cause, But since I am a dog, beware my fangs.
Thou O Spirit, that dost prefer Before all Temples th' upright heart and pure, Instruct me, for Thou know'st; Thou from the first Wast present, and with mighty wings outspread Dove-like satst brooding on the vast Abyss And mad'st it pregnant: What is in me dark Illumine, what is low raise and support; That to the heighth of this great Argument I may assert Eternal Providence, And justify the ways of God to men.
O Lord, Thou knowest that which is best for us; let this or that be done, as Thou shalt please. Give what Thou wilt, how much Thou wilt, and when Thou wilt. Deal with me as thou thinkest best. Place me where Thou wilt, and deal with me in all things just as Thou wilt. Behold, I am Thy servant, prepared for all things: I desire not to live unto myself, but unto Thee; and oh, that I could do it worthily and perfectly!
Death be not proud, though some have called thee Mighty and dreadful, for thou art not so. For, those, whom thou think'st thou dost overthrow. Die not, poor death, nor yet canst thou kill me.
When thou cam'st first, Thou strok'st me and made much of me; wouldst give me Water with berries in't; and teach me how To name the bigger light, and how the less, That burn by day and night; and then I loved thee And showed thee all the qualities o' th' isle, The fresh springs, brine-pits, barren place and fertile.
Oh, thou did'st then ne'er love so heartily. If thou rememb'rest not the slightest folly That ever love did make thee run inot, Thou has not loved. Of if thou has't not sat as I do now, Wearying they hearer in thy mistress's praise, Thou has not loved. Of if thou hast not broke from company Abruptly, as my passion now makes me, Thou has not loved. (Silvius)
If thou would'st have that stream of hard-earn'd knowledge, of Wisdom heaven-born, remain sweet running waters, thou should'st not leave it to become a stagnant pond.
What thou lovest well remains, the rest is dross What thou lov’st well shall not be reft from thee What thou lov’st well is thy true heritage
Thou art my father, thou my author, thou my being gav'st me; whom should I obey but thee, whom follow?
Thou source of all my bliss and all my woe, That found'st me poor at first, and keep'st me so.
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