From women's eyes this doctrine I derive: They sparkle still the right Promethean fire; They are the books, the arts, the academes, That show, contain and nourish all the world.

There's no art to find the mind's construction in the face.

For I can raise no money by vile means. By heaven, I had rather coin my heart, And drop my blood for drachmas

Truly, I would not hang a dog by my will, much more a man who hath any honesty in him.

Good things should be praised.

What drink'st thou oft, instead of homage sweet, But poisoned flattery?

O God, O God, how weary, stale, flat, and unprofitable seem to me all the uses of this world!