Is man no more than this? Consider him well. Thou ow'st the worm no silk, the beast no hide, the sheep no wool, the cat no perfume. Here's three on's are sophisticated. Thou art the thing itself; unaccommodated man is no more than such a poor, bare, forked animal as thou art.

Modest doubt is called the beacon of the wise.

The time is out of joint.

Give every man thy ear, but few thy voice.

Or art thou but / A dagger of the mind, a false creation, / Proceeding from the heat-oppressed brain?

Ere yet the salt of most unrighteous tears Had left the flushing of her gallèd eyes, She married. O, most wicked speed, to post With such dexterity to incestuous sheets!

Patience is sottish, and impatience does become a dog that's mad.