Some smack of age in you, some relish of the saltness of time.
Full fathom five thy father lies
How much more doth beauty beauteous seem by that sweet ornament which truth doth give!
People’s good deeds we write in water. The evil deeds are etched in brass.
But thought's the slave of life, and life time's fool.
Beggar that I am, I am even poor in thanks, but I thank you; and sure, dear friends, my thanks are too dear a halfpenny.