Through tattered clothes great vices do appear; Robes and furred gowns hide all. Plate sin with gold and the strong lance of justice hurtless breaks. Arm it in rags, a pigmy's straw does pierce it.

A plague on both your houses.

I had rather have a fool to make me merry than experience to make me sad and to travel for it too!

My liege, and madam, to expostulate What majesty should be, what duty is, Why day is day, night night, and time is time, Were nothing but to waste night, day and time. Therefore, since brevity is the soul of wit, And tediousness the limbs and outward flourishes, I will be brief.

The love of heaven makes one heavenly.

When you do dance, I wish you a wave o' the sea, that you might ever do nothing but that.

Full fathom five thy father lies