Though it make the unskillful laugh, cannot but make the judicious grieve.

The purest treasure mortal times can afford is a spotless reputation.

Tell me, daughter Juliet, How stands your dispositions to be married" It is an honor that I dream not of

I should think this a gull, but that the white-bearded fellow speaks it; knavery cannot, sure, hide himself in such reverence.

We suffer a lot the few things we lack and we enjoy too little the many things we have.

That time of year thou mayst in me behold When yellow leaves, or none, or few, do hang Upon those boughs which shake against the cold, Bare ruin'd choirs, where late the sweet birds sang. In me thou seest the twilight of such day, As after sunset fadeth in the west, Which by-and-by black night doth take away.

This tyrant, whose sole name blisters our tongues,Was once thought honest.