My life, my joy, my food, my ail the world!

I am not mad; I would to heaven I were! For then, 'tis like I should forget myself; O, if I could, what grief should I forget!

I have lived long enough. My way of life is to fall into the sere, the yellow leaf, and that which should accompany old age, as honor, love, obedience, troops of friends I must not look to have.

Polonius: Do you know me, my lord? Hamlet: Excellent well. You are a fishmonger.

Sir, in my heart there was a kind of fighting That would not let me sleep.

He's loved of the distracted multitude, who like not in their judgement, but their eyes.

Good Lord, for alliance! Thus goes every one to the world but I, and I am sunburnt; I may sit in a corner and cry heigh-ho for a husband!