I drink to the general joy o’ the whole table." Macbeth

Lord, I could not endure a husband with a beard on his face! I had rather lie in the woolen.

In struggling with misfortunes lies the true proof of virtue.

But O, how bitter a thing it is to look into happiness through another man's eyes.

Thus conscience does make cowards of us all; And thus the native hue of resolution Is slicked o'er with the pale cast of thought

Pleasure and action make the hours seem short.

What though care killed a cat, thou hast mettle enough in thee to kill care.