The crown o' the earth doth melt. My lord! O, wither'd is the garland of the war, The soldier's pole is fall'n: young boys and girls Are level now with men; the odds is gone, And there is nothing left remarkable Beneath the visiting moon.

The devil knew what he did when he made men politic; he crossed himself by it.

The fittest time to corrupt a man's wife is when she's fallen out with her husband.

Affection, mistress of passion, sways it to the mood of what it likes or loathes.

That if you be honest and fair, your honesty should admit no discourse to your beauty.

Adieu! I have too grieved a heart to take a tedious leave.

To-morrow, and to-morrow, and to-morrow, Creeps in this petty pace from day to day, To the last syllable of recorded time; And all our yesterdays have lighted fools The way to dusty death. Out, out, brief candle! Life's but a walking shadow, a poor player, That struts and frets his hour upon the stage, And then is heard no more. It is a tale Told by an idiot, full of sound and fury, Signifying nothing.