Defer no time, delays have dangerous ends.

Yet do I fear thy nature; It is too full o' the milk of human kindness To catch the nearest way: thou wouldst be great; Art not without ambition, but without The illness should attend it: what thou wouldst highly, That wouldst thou holily; wouldst not play false, And yet wouldst wrongly win.

And makes me poor indeed.

I do I know not what, and fear to find Mine eye too great a flatterer for my mind. Fate, show thy force. Ourselves we do not owe. What is decreed must be; and be this so.

How art thou out of breath when thou hast breath To say to me that thou art out of breath?

Honesty is not the best policy - merely the safest

What is past is prologue.