Take heed, dear heart, of this large privilege; The hardest knife ill-used doth lose his edge.

There is special providence in the fall of a sparrow.

The fashion of the world is to avoid cost, and you encounter it.

But it is a melancholy of mine own, compounded of many simples, extracted from many objects, and indeed the sundry contemplation of my travels, which, by often rumination, wraps me in the most humorous sadness.

So foul and fair a day I have not seen.

But, soft! what light through yonder window breaks? It is the east, and Juliet is the sun. Arise, fair sun, and kill the envious moon, Who is already sick and pale with grief, That thou, her maid, art far more fair than she. Be not her maid, since she is envious; Her vestal livery is but sick and green And none but fools do wear it; cast it off. It is my lady, O, it is my love! Oh, that she knew she were!

Virtue is bold, and goodness never fearful.