How much better is it to weep at joy than to joy at weeping?

A great perturbation in nature, to receive at once the benefit of sleep and do the effects of watching!

Ring the alarum-bell! Blow, wind! come, wrack! At least we'll die with harness on our back.

She never told her love, but let concealment, like a worm 'i th' bud, feed on her damask cheek. She pinned in thought; and, with a green and yellow melancholy, she sat like Patience on a monument, smiling at grief. Was not this love indeed? We men may say more, swear more; but indeed our shows are more than will; for we still prove much in our vows but little in our love.

A man should be what he seems.

Teach not thy lip such scorn, for it was made For kissing, lady, not for such contempt.

Wisdom cries out in the streets, and no man regards it.