Thou hast most traitorously corrupted the youth of the realm in erecting a grammar school.

This goodly frame, the earth, seems to me a sterile promontory, this most excellent canopy, the air, look you, this brave o'erhanging firmament, this majestical roof fretted with golden fire, why, it appears no other thing to me than a foul and pestilent congregation of vapours. What a piece of work is a man! how noble in reason! how infinite in faculty! in form and moving how express and admirable! in action how like an angel! in apprehension how like a god! the beauty of the world! the paragon of animals! And yet, to me, what is this quintessence of dust?

Well, if Fortune be a woman, she's a good wench for this gear.

So fair and foul a day i had not seen.

To hold, as 't were, the mirror up to nature.

On the bat’s back I do fly After summer merrily.

To saucy doubts and fears.