God has given you one face, and you make yourself another.

There's nothing in this world can make me joy: Life is as tedious as a twice-told tale Vexing the dull ear of a drowsy man; And bitter shame hath spoil'd the sweet world's taste That it yields nought but shame and bitterness.

Merciful heaven, Thou rather with thy sharp and sulphurous bolt Splits the unwedgeable and gnarled oak Than the soft myrtle; but man, proud man, Dressed in a little brief authority, Most ignorant of what he's most assured His glassy essence--like an angry ape Plays such fantastic tricks before high heaven As makes the angels weep; who, with our spleens, would all themselves laugh mortal.

This cold night will turn us all to fools and madmen.

The purest treasure mortal times can afford is a spotless reputation.

For death remembered should be like a mirror, Who tells us life’s but breath, to trust it error.

True, I talk of dreams, Which are the children of an idle brain, Begot of nothing but vain fantasy.