Something is rotten in the state of Denmark.

What valor were it, when a cur doth grin, for one to thrust his hand between his teeth, when he might spurn him with his foot away?

This is no time to lend money, especially upon bare friendship without security.

The bird that hath been limed in a bush, with trembling wings misdoubteth every bush.

You lack the season of all natures, sleep.

How much more doth beauty beauteous seem by that sweet ornament which truth doth give!

Honour travels in a strait so narrow Where one but goes abreast.