Give thanks for what you are today and go on fighting for what you gone be tomorrow

O good old man, how well in thee appears The constant service of the antique world, When service sweat for duty, not for meed! Thou art not for the fashion of these times, Where none will sweat but for promotion, And having that do choke their service up Even with the having. . . .

The fortune of us that are the moon's men doth ebb and flow like the sea, being governed, as the sea is, by the moon.

Unless hours were cups of sack, and minutes capons, and clocks the tongues of bawds, and dials the signs of leaping-houses, and the blessed sun himself a fair hot wench in flame-colored taffeta, I see no reason why thou shouldst be so superfluous to demand the time of the day.

How ill white hairs become a fool and jester!

'Tis thought the king is dead; we will not stay. The bay trees in our country are all wither'd.

I see a woman may be made a fool, If she had not a spirit to resist.