Our whole life is like a play.

It is the highest of earthly honors to be descended from the great and good. They alone cry out against a noble ancestry who have none of their own.

The world knows only two, that's Rome and I.

Minds that are great and free, should not on fortune pause: 'Tis crown enough to virtue still, her own applause.

Truth is man's proper good, and the only immortal thing was given to our mortality to use.

I remember, the players have often mentioned it as an honour to Shakespeare, that in his writing (whatsoever he penned) he never plotted out a line. My answer hath been, would he had blotted a thousand.

Were Guilt is, Rage and Courage doth abound.