... the spring, the summer, The chilling autumn, angry winter, change Their wonted liveries; and the mazed world By their increase, now knows not which is which.

Death, a necessary end, will come when it will come

The will is infinite and the execution confin'd, the desire is boundless and the act a slave to limit.

Oppose not rage while rage is in its force, but give it way a while and let it waste.

Every subject's duty is the Kings, but every subject's soul is his own.

Good name in man and woman, dear my lord, Is the immediate jewel of their souls: Who steals my purse steals trash; ’tis something, nothing; ’twas mine, ’tis his, and has been slave to thousands; But he that filches from me my good name Robs me of that which not enriches him, And makes me poor indeed.

Hide not thy poison with such sugar'd words