You cannot, sir, take from me any thing that I will more willingly part withal: except my life, except my life, except my life.
Come my spade. There is no ancient gentlemen but gardeners, ditchers, and grave-makers; they hold up Adam's profession.
Lord, what fools these mortals be!
To gild refined gold, to paint the lily... is wasteful and ridiculous excess
The hand that hath made you fair hath made you good.
And when I am forgotten, as I shall be, And asleep in dull cold marble, where no mention Of me must be heard of, say, I taught thee.