Why what a fool was I to this drunken monster for a God. - Caliban

Love's not Time's fool, though rosy lips and cheeks within his bending sickle's compass come.

So sweet was ne'er so fatal. I must weep. But they are creul tears. This sorrow's heavenly; it strikes where it doth love.

Every good servant does not all commands.

Memory, the warder of the brain.

O the world is but a word; were it all yours to give it in a breath, how quickly were it gone!

It is great To do that thing that ends all other deeds, Which shackles accidents and bolts up change.