O the world is but a word; were it all yours to give it in a breath, how quickly were it gone!

I am not merry, but I do beguile the thing I am by seeming otherwise.

Be just, and fear not.

Our doubts are traitors and make us lose the good we oft might win by fearing to attempt.

When sorrows come, they come not single spies, but in battalions.

We wound our modesty and make foul the clearness of our deservings, when of ourselves we publish them.

Every why hath a wherefore.