A friend should bear a friend's infirmities, But Brutus makes mine greater than they are.
The sea all water, yet receives rain still,And in abundance addeth to his store,So thou being rich in will add to thy willOne will of mine to make thy large will more.
. . . I am bound upon a wheel of fire, that mine own tears do scald like molten lead.
Why then the worlds mine oyster, Which I with sword shall open.
I might not this believeWithout the sensible and true avouchOf mine own eyes.
There's not a note of mine that's worth the noting.
He that commends me to mine own content Commends me to the thing I cannot get.
This thing of darkness I acknowlege mine. There is nothing more confining than the prison we don't know we are in.
Knowing I loved my books, he furnished me,From mine own library with volumes thatI prize above my dukedom.
I am not worthy of the wealth I owe, nor dare I say 'tis mine, and yet it is; but, like a timorous thief, most fain would steal what law does vouch mine own.
What power is it which mounts my love so high, that makes me see, and cannot feed mine eye
I understand thy kisses, and thou mine, And that's a feeling disputation.
Why, then the world ’s mine oyster, Which I with sword will open.
And therefore, — since I cannot prove a lover, To entertain these fair well-spoken days, — I am determined to prove a villain, And hate the idle pleasures of these days.