Love all, trust a few, do wrong to none.

To die: - to sleep: No more; and, by a sleep to say we end The heart-ache and the thousand natural shocks That flesh is heir to, 'tis a consummation Devoutly to be wished.

Tis beauty that doth oft make women proud; but, God He knows, thy share thereof is small.

Nature teaches beasts to know their friends.

He must needs go that the devil drives.

Here's flowers for you; Hot lavender, mints, savoury, marjoram; The marigold, that goes to bed wi' the sun And with him rises weeping: these are flowers Of middle summer, and I think they are given To men of middle age.

One fire burns out another's burning, One pain is lessen'd by another's anguish.