Fear no more the heat o' th' sun Nor the furious winters' rages; Thou thy worldly task hast done, Home art gone, and ta'en thy wages. Golden lads and girls all must, As chimney-sweepers, come to dust.

All the world's a stage.

A harmless necessary cat.

I can get no remedy against this consumption of the purse: borrowing only lingers and lingers it out, but the disease is incurable.

Oh, that way madness lies; let me shun that.

We were not born to sue, but to command.

If our virtues did not go forth of us, it were all alike as if we had them not.