All that glisters is not gold; Often have you heard that told: Many a man his life hath sold But my outside to behold: Gilded tombs do worms enfold.

For night's swift dragons cut the clouds full fast, And yonder shines Aurora's harbinger; At whose approach ghosts wandring here and there Troop home to church-yards.... For fear lest day should look their shames upon, They willfully exile themselves from light, And must for aye consort with black brow'd night.

Cheerily to sea; the signs of war advance: No king of England, if not king of France

I was born free as Caesar; so were you

The patient must minister to himself

Away! Thou'rt poison to my blood.

The worm is not to be trusted.