The moon shines bright. In such a night as this. When the sweet wind did gently kiss the trees and they did make no noise, in such a night.
Of all the flowers, me thinks a rose is best.
Could beauty, my lord, have better commerce than with honesty?
All that glitters is not gold.
He knows what it's like to strut and fret his hour upon the stage and then be heard no more.
The wheel is come full circle.