The Play's the Thing, wherein I'll catch the conscience of the King.
In peace there's nothing so becomes a man as modest stillness and humility.
Earth-treading stars that make dark heaven light
All's well if all ends well.
Ne'er ask me what raiment I'll wear, for I have no more doublets than backs, no more stockings than legs, nor no more shoes than feet--nay, sometime more feet than shoes, or such shoes as my toes look through the overleather.
Poor and content, is rich and rich enough; But riches, fineless, is as poor as winter, To him that ever fears he shall be poor.