Look, what a horse should have he did not lack, Save a proud rider on his back.

Your face, my thane, is as a book where men May read strange matters. To beguile the time, Look like the time; bear welcome in your eye, Your hand, your tongue: look like the innocent flower, But be the serpent under't.

And where the offense is, let the great axe fall.

He knows what it's like to strut and fret his hour upon the stage and then be heard no more.

O, what men dare do! what men may do! what men daily do, not knowing what they do.

Dumb jewels often, in their silent kind, more than quick words, do move a woman's mind.

The moon's an arrant thief, And her pale fire she snatches from the sun.