So, good night unto you all. Give me your hands, if we be friends, and Robin shall restore amends.

There is plenty of time to sleep in the grave

But, indeed, words are very rascals, since bonds [vows] disgraced them." Viola: "Thy reason, man?" Feste: "Troth [Truthfully], sir, I can yield you none without words, and words are grown so false, I am loathe to prove reason with them.

God defend me from that Welsh fairy, Lest he transform me to a piece of cheese!

This most excellent canopy, the air, look you, this brave o-erhanging firmament, this majestical roof fretted with golden fire.

And I will make it felony to drink small beer.

Nature hath framed strange fellows in her time.