We make guilty of our disasters the sun, the moon, and the stars; as if we were villians by compulsion.

There's nothing in this world can make me joy: Life is as tedious as a twice-told tale Vexing the dull ear of a drowsy man; And bitter shame hath spoil'd the sweet world's taste That it yields nought but shame and bitterness.

...lest too light winning make the prize light.

Thou whoreson zed! Thou unnecessary letter! My lord, if you will give me leave, I will tread this unbolted villain into mortar, and daub the wall of a jakes with him. *all cheer for Shakespearean insults*

If the skin were parchment and the blows you gave were ink, Your own handwriting would tell you what I think.

It is certain that either wise bearing or ignorant carriage is caught as men take diseases, one of another.

Hold, or cut bowstrings.