Melancholy is the nurse of frenzy.

You may my Glories and my State depose, But not my Griefes; still am I King of those.

A friend should bear his friend's infirmities.

There is a tide in the affairs of men

All his successors gone before him have done 't; and all his ancestors that come after him may.

Honesty is not the best policy - merely the safest

Kent. Where's the king? Gent. Contending with the fretful elements; Bids the wind blow the earth into the sea, Or swell the curled waters 'bove the main, That things might change or cease; tears his white hair, Which the impetuous blasts, with eyeless rage, Catch in their fury and make nothing of; Strives in his little world of man to outscorn The to-and-fro-conflicting wind and rain. This night, wherein the cub-drawn bear would couch, The lion and the belly-pinched wolf Keep their fur dry, unbonneted he runs, And bids what will take all.