He that is strucken blind can not forget the precious treasure of his eyesight lost.

Gnarling sorrow hath less power to bite The man that mocks at it and sets it light.

Still it cried ‘Sleep no more!’ to all the house: ‘Glamis hath murder’d sleep, and therefore Cawdor shall sleep no more,—Macbeth shall sleep no more!

A peace is of the nature of a conquest; for then both parties nobly are subdued, and neither party loser.

To be generous, guiltless, and of a free disposition is to take those things for bird-bolts that you deem cannon-bullets.

Lawless are they that make their wills their law.

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