Let the doors be shut upon him, that he may play the fool no where but in's own house.

You abilities are too infant-like for doing much alone.

All surfeit is the father of much fast.

Sick in the world's regard, wretched and low.

Would I were in an alehouse in London.

Things without all remedy should be without regard: what's done is done.

There was a star danced, and under that was I born.