That truth should be silent I had almost forgot. (Enobarbus)

There's many a man hath more hair than wit.

Devoutly to be wish'd. To die, to sleep; To sleep, perchance to dream—For in that sleep of death what dreams may come,When we have shuffled off this mortal coil, Must give us pause, there's the respect, That makes calamity of so long life

Then is it sin to rush into the secret house of death. Ere death dare come to us?

Time is the nurse and breeder of all good.

Thyself shall see the act; For, as thou urgest justice, be assured Thou shalt have justice, more than thou desir'st.

Happy thou art not; for what thou hast not, still thou strivest to get; and what thou hast, forgettest.