Honesty is the best policy. If I lose mine honor, I lose myself.

Sorrow breaks seasons and reposing hours, Makes the night morning, and the noontide night.

There is a kind of character in thy life, That to the observer doth thy history, fully unfold.

There live not three good men unhanged in England; and one of them is fat and grows old.

Time shall unfold what plaited cunning hides: Who cover faults, at last shame them derides.

To-morrow, and to-morrow, and to-morrow, Creeps in this petty pace from day to day, To the last syllable of recorded time; And all our yesterdays have lighted fools The way to dusty death. Out, out, brief candle! Life's but a walking shadow, a poor player, That struts and frets his hour upon the stage, And then is heard no more. It is a tale Told by an idiot, full of sound and fury, Signifying nothing.

A lean cheek; which you have not: a blue eye, and sunken; which you have not: an unquestionable spirit; which you have not: a beard neglected; which you have not: — but I pardon you for that; for, simply, your having1 in beard is a younger brother's revenue: — Then your hose should be ungarter'd, your bonnet unhanded, your sleeve unbuttoned, your shoe untied, and every thing about you demonstrating a careless desolation.