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.

I'll be damned for never a king's son in Christendom.

Love is begun by time and time qualifies the spark and fire of it.

Your worm is your only emperor for diet; we fat all creatures else to fat us, and we fat ourselves for maggots.

My charity is outrage, life my shame; And in that shame still live my sorrow's rage!

Love is my sin, and thy dear virtue hate, Hate of my sin, grounded on sinful loving.

Love laughs at locksmiths.