Away, you mouldy rogue, away!

Friends, Romans, countrymen, lend me your ears; I come to bury Caesar, not to praise him.

This is the third time; I hope good luck lies in odd numbers. Away; go. They say there is divinity in odd numbers, either in nativity, chance, or death.

Look, what a horse should have he did not lack, Save a proud rider on his back.

Love all. Trust a few. Do wrong to none. This above all: to thine own self be true. No legacy is so rich as honesty. Brevity is the soul of wit

The little dogs and all, Tray, Blanch, and Sweetheart-see, they bark at me.

Her virtues, graced with external gifts, Do breed love's settled passions in my heart; And like as rigour of tempestuous gusts Provokes the mightiest hulk against the tide, So am I driven by breath of her renown Either to suffer shipwreck or arrive Where I may have fruition of her love.