If fortune torments me, hope contents me.

Earth-treading stars that make dark heaven light

I had rather have a fool to make me merry than experience to make me sad and to travel for it too!

There is a river in Macedon, and there is moreover a river in Monmouth. It is called Wye at Monmouth, but it is out of my prains what is the name of the other river; but 'tis all one, 'tis alike as my fingers is to my fingers, and there is salmons in both.

Sound trumpets! Let our bloody colours wave! And either victory, or else a grave.

For where thou art, there is the world itself, With every several pleasure in the world, And where thou art not, desolation.

To-morrow, and to-morrow, and to-morrow, Creeps in this petty pace from day to day, To the last syllable of recorded time; And all our yesterdays have lighted fools The way to dusty death. Out, out, brief candle! Life's but a walking shadow, a poor player, That struts and frets his hour upon the stage, And then is heard no more. It is a tale Told by an idiot, full of sound and fury, Signifying nothing.