Who buys a minute's mirth to wail a week? Or sell eternity to get a toy? For one grape who will the vine destroy?

I have not slept. Between the acting of a dreadful thing And the first motion, all the interim is Like a phantasma, or a hideous dream: The Genius and the mortal instruments Are then in council; and the state of man, Like to a little kingdom, suffers then The nature of an insurrection.

I loved Ophelia. Forty thousand brothers could not, with all their quantity of love, make up my sum.

They do not abuse the king that flatter him. For flattery is the bellows blows up sin; The thing the which is flattered, but a spark To which that blast gives heat and stronger glowing.

A hit, a very palpable hit.

one pain is cured by another. catch some new infection in your eye and the poison of the old one would die.

Preferred three hours quicker over one moment late.