Your praises will become your wages.

Life's but a walking shadow, a poor player, that struts and frets his hour upon the stage, and then is heard no more; it is a tale told by an idiot, full of sound and fury, signifying nothing.

What? do I love her, that I desire to hear her speak again, and feast upon her eyes

I am sure care's an enemy to life.

As a walled town is more worthier than a village, so is the forehead of a married man more honorable than the bare brow of a bachelor.

Life's uncertain voyage.

And send him many years of sunshine days!