I am such a tender ass, if my hair do but tickle me, I must scratch.

Ships are but boards, sailors but men; there be land-rats and water-rats, water-thieves and land-thieves, I mean pirates, and thenthere is the peril of waters, winds, and rocks.

Slander, whose whisper over the world's diameter, as level as the cannon to its blank, transports its poisoned shot.

Is this the generation of love? Hot blood, hot thoughts and hot deeds? Why, they are vipers. Is love a generation of vipers?

Friendship is constant in all other things, save in the office and affairs of love.

Let every eye negotiate for itself and trust no agent.

Do not speak like a death's-head, do not bid me remember mine end.