When we are born we cry that we are come to this great stage of fools.

So will I turn her virtue into pitch, And out of her own goodness make the net That shall enmesh them all.

Hang those that talk of fear.

We go to gain a little patch of ground that hath in it no profit but the name.

Give every man thine ear, but few thy voice; Take each man's censure, but reserve thy judgment.

To move is to stir, and to be valiant is to stand; therefore, if tou art mov'd, thou runst away. (To be angry is to move, to be brave is to stand still. Therefore, if you're angry, you'll run away.)

How wayward is this foolish love that, like a testy babe, will scratch the nurse and presently, all humble, kiss the rod.