When our actions do not, our fears make us traitors.

Mine eyes Were not in fault, for she was beautiful; Mine ears, that heard her flattery; nor my heart, That thought her like her seeming. It had been vicious To have mistrusted her.

Yield not thy neck To fortunes yoke, but let thy dauntless mind Still ride in triumph over all mischance.

To lapse in fulness Is sorer than to lie for need, and falsehood Is worse in kings than beggars.

Doubt thou the stars are fire; Doubt that the sun doth move; Doubt truth to be a liar; But never doubt I love.

Thou art a very ragged Wart.

They that have voice of lions and act of hares,--are they not monsters?