Good Hamlet, cast thy nighted colour off ... Do not for ever with thy vailed lids Seek for thy noble father in the dust.
Ambition, the soldier's virtue, rather makes choice of loss, than gain which darkens him.
Sleep, that sometimes shuts up sorrow's eye.
The eagle suffers little birds to sing.
Thou unfit for any place but hell.
Knit your hearts with an unslipping knot.