O, wonder! How many goodly creatures are there here! How beauteous mankind is! O brave new world, That has such people in't!

I'll give my jewels for a set of beads, My gorgeous palace for a hermitage, My gay apparel for an almsman's gown, My figured goblets for a dish of wood, My scepter for a palmer's walking staff My subjects for a pair of carved saints and my large kingdom for a little grave.

But 'tis common proof, that lowliness is young ambition's ladder, whereto the climber-upward turns his face; but when he once attains the upmost round, he then turns his back, looks in the clouds, scorning the vase defrees by which he did ascend.

Upon his royal face there is no note how dread an army hath enrounded him.

Get thee glass eyes, and like a scurvy politician, seem to see the things thou dost not.

My only love sprung from my only hate.

In sweet music is such art: killing care and grief of heart fall asleep, or hearing, die.