He's all my exercise, my mirth, my matter.

The patient must minister to himself

Die for adultery! No: The wren goes to't, and the small gilded fly does lecher in my sight

Whether 'tis nobler in the mind to suffer The slings and arrows of outrageous fortune, Or to take arms against a sea of troubles, And by opposing end them?

Remembrance of things past.

We, ignorant of ourselves, Beg often our own harms, which the wise powers Deny us for our good; so find we profit By losing of our prayers.

So fair and foul a day i had not seen.