Assume a virtue, if you have it not. That monster, custom, who all sense doth eat, Of habits devil, is angel yet in this, That to the use of actions fair and good He likewise gives a frock or livery That aptly is put on. Refrain tonight, And that shall lend a kind of easiness To the next abstinence; the next more easy; For use almost can change the stamp of nature.

What is a man, if his chief good and market of his time be but to sleep and feed? a beast, no more.

Hamlet: Is this a prologue, or the posy of a ring? Ophelia: 'Tis brief, my lord. Hamlet: As woman's love.

Yet this my comfort: when your words are done, My woes end likewise with the evening sun.

Each substance of a grief has twenty shadows.

Come give us a taste of your quality.

I bear a charmed life.