The native hue of resolution is sicklied o'er with the pale cast of thought; and enterprises of great pitch and moment, With this regard, their currents turn awry, and lose the name of action.

For some must watch, while some must sleep So runs the world away

Vaulting ambition, which o'erleaps itself And falls on the other side

I am indeed not her fool, but her corrupter of words. (Act III, sc. I, 37-38)

Is love a tender thing? It is too rough, too rude, too boisterous, and it pricks like thorn.

The common curse of mankind, folly and ignorance, be thine in great revenue!

Every man has business and desire, Such as it is.