More can I bear than you dare execute.

Our doubts are traitors and make us lose the good we oft might win by fearing to attempt.

Let the doors be shut upon him, that he may play the fool no where but in's own house.

...and then, in dreaming, / The clouds methought would open and show riches / Ready to drop upon me, that when I waked / I cried to dream again.

Why then, O brawling love! O loving hate! O any thing, of nothing first create! O heavy lightness, serious vanity, Misshapen chaos of well-seeming forms, Feather of lead, bright smoke, cold fire, sick health, Still-waking sleep, that is not what it is! This love feel I, that feel no love in this.

I would give all of my fame for a pot of ale and safety.

I was adored once too.