O, beware, my lord, of jealousy; It is the green-ey'd monster, which doth mock The meat it feeds on.

We must love men, ere to us they will seem worthy of our love.

They say best men are molded out of faults, And, for the most, become much more the better For being a little bad

Weariness can snore upon the flint when resting sloth finds the down pillow hard.

Knit your hearts with an unslipping knot.

Good Hamlet, cast thy nighted colour off ... Do not for ever with thy vailed lids Seek for thy noble father in the dust.

Beauty provoketh thieves sooner than gold.