Rich gifts wax poor when givers prove unkind.

No doubt they rose up early to observe the rite of May; and, hearing our intent, Came here in grace of our solemnity.

Alas, our frailty is the cause , not we! For, such as we are made of, such we be.

There is a history in all men's lives.

If the skin were parchment and the blows you gave were ink, Your own handwriting would tell you what I think.

After life's fitful fever he sleeps well. Treason has done his worst. Nor steel nor poison, malice domestic, foreign levy, nothing can touch him further.

And in some perfumes there is more delight than in the breath that from my mistress reeks. I love to hear her speak, yet well I know that music hath a far more pleasing sound.