what cannot be saved when fate takes, patience her injury a mockery makes

This blessed plot, this earth, this realm, this England.

Be merry; you have cause, so have we all, of joy; for our escape is much beyond our loss . . . . then wisely weigh our sorrow with our comfort.

O God, I could be bound in a nutshell, and count myself a king of infinite space – were it not that I have bad dreams.

Away! Thou'rt poison to my blood.

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

Time travels at different speeds for different people. I can tell you who time strolls for, who it trots for, who it gallops for, and who it stops cold for.