You dull ass will not mend his pace with beating.

For 'tis the sport to have the engineer Hoist with his own petar; and't shall go hard But I will delve one yard below their mines And blow them at the moon.

Let life be short, else shame will be too long.

I had rather be a dog, and bay the moon, Than such a Roman.

Although the last, not least.

And a man's life's no more than to say "One."

Sorrow breaks seasons and reposing hours, Makes the night morning, and the noontide night.