William Shakespeare

Still be kind, and eke out our performance with your mind.

Strike, brave boys, and take your turns.

Such is my love, to thee I so belong, That for thy right myself will bear all wrong.

Suppose the ambassador from the French comes back: tells Harry that the King doth offer him Katherine his daughter; and with her to dowry some petty and unprofitable dukedoms: the offer likes not.

Sweet fellowship in shame! One drunkard loves another of the name.

Sycorax has grown into a hoop.

Still better, and worse.

Strive mightily, but eat and drink as friends. When you fear a foe, fear crushes your strength; and this weakness gives strength to your opponents.

Such is the power of love, that exalts materialistic things. Now imagine I clear why it has mold and paint god blindfolded and wings - leisurely blindness! Because of what worse! And present it has a child, because not distinguish good from evil in their games, noise and shout swears and throws every moment!

Supposition all our lives shall be stuck full of eyes; for treason is but trusted like the fox, who, ne'er so tame, so cherished and locked up, will have a wild trick of his ancestors.

Sweet flowers are slow and weeds make haste

Still constant is a wondrous excellence.

Striving to better, oft we mar what's well. King Lear (Albany at I, iv)

Such it is as are those dulcet sounds in break of day that creep into the dreaming bridegroom's ear and summon him to marriage.

Sure he that made us with such large discourse, looking before and after, gave us not that capability and godlike reason to rust in us unused. Hamlet, Act iv, Scene 4

Sweet love, I see, changing his property, turns to the sourest and most deadly hate.

Still harping on my daughter. Hamlet Prince of Denmark (Polonius at II, ii)

Strong reasons make strong actions: let us go: If you say ay, the king will not say no. King John, Act iii, Scene 4

Such men as he be never at heart's ease Whiles they behold a greater than themselves, And therefore are they very dangerous.

Sure, he's not in hell; he's in Arthur's bosom, if ever man went to Arthur's bosom. 'A made a finer end, and went away, an it had been any christom child; 'a parted even just between twelve and one, even at the turning o’ the tide: for after I saw him fumble with the sheets, and play with flowers, and smile upon his fingers' ends, I knew there was but one way; for his nose was as sharp as a pen, and a’ babbled of green fields.

Sweet mercy is nobility's true badge. Titus Andronicus (Tamora at I, i)

Stars, stars! And all eyes else dead coals.

Still have I borne it with a patient shrug, for suff'rance is the badge of all our tribe. You call me misbeliever, cutthroat dog, and spit upon my Jewish gaberdine, and all for use of that which is mine own. Merchant of Venice, Act i, Scene 3

Study is like the heaven's glorious sun, that will not be deep searched with saucy looks; small have continual plodders ever won, save base authority from others' books.

Such seems your beauty still.