While we lie tumbling in the hay.

Hamlet: Is this a prologue, or the posy of a ring? Ophelia: 'Tis brief, my lord. Hamlet: As woman's love.

GLOUCESTER: I do not know that Englishman alive With whom my soul is any jot at odds, More than the infant that is born to-night: I thank my God for my humility.

He knows what it's like to strut and fret his hour upon the stage and then be heard no more.

There should be hours for necessities, not for delights; times to repair our nature with comforting repose, and not for us to waste these times.

Drown thyself? Drown cats and blind puppies.

Women may fail when there is no strength in man