Their savage eyes turned to a modest gaze by the sweet power of music.

Our enemies are our outward consciences.

What is a man, if his chief good and market of his time be but to sleep and feed? a beast, no more.

Here comes a man of comfort, whose advice Hath often stilled my brawling discontent.

Do you set down your name in the scroll of youth, that are written down old with all the characters of age?

If we are true to ourselves, we can not be false to anyone.

Put money in thy purse.