Conscience is a blushing, shamefaced spirit than mutinies in a man's bosom; it fills one full of obstacles.
The cat will mew, and dog will have his day.
Call me what instrument you will, though you can fret me, you cannot play upon me.
All the world's a stage.
A harmless necessary cat.
Affection, mistress of passion, sways it to the mood of what it likes or loathes.