This fellow is wise enough to play the fool; And to do that well craves a kind of wit: He must observe their mood on whom he jests, The quality of persons, and the time, And, like the haggard, check at every feather That comes before his eye. This is a practise As full of labour as a wise man's art For folly that he wisely shows is fit; But wise men, folly-fall'n, quite taint their wit.

The Play's the Thing, wherein I'll catch the conscience of the King.

Headstrong liberty is lashed with woe.

This is no time to lend money, especially upon bare friendship without security.

There should be hours for necessities, not for delights; times to repair our nature with comforting repose, and not for us to waste these times.

Come, and take choice of all my library, And so beguile thy sorrow.

The dullness of the fool is the whetstone of the wits.