A man cannot make him laugh - but that's no marvel; he drinks no wine.

And be these juggling friends no more believ'd, That palter with us in a double sense; That keep the word of promise to our ear And break it to our hope.

Then imitate the action of the tiger; stiffen the sinews, summon up the blood.

All pity choked with custom of fell deeds.

O God, I could be bound in a nutshell, and count myself a king of infinite space – were it not that I have bad dreams.

I love a ballad but even too well if it be doleful matter merrily set down, or a very pleasant thing indeed and sung lamentably.

Receive what cheer you may. The night is long that never finds the day.