Where shall we three meet again in thunder, lightning, or in rain? When the hurlyburly 's done, when the battle 's lost and won

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

In scorn of nature, art gave lifeless life.

This rudeness is a sauce to his good wit, Which gives men stomach to digest his words With better appetite.

Cursed be the hand that made these fatal holes.

A dream itself is but a shadow.

I am not merry, but I do beguile the thing I am by seeming otherwise.