Better three hours too soon than a minute too late.

I will praise any man that will praise me.

Love will not be spurred to what it loathes

In thy youth wast as true a lover, As ever sighed upon a midnight pillow

Is this a dagger which I see before me, The handle toward my hand?

Men of few words are the best men." (3.2.41)

Past all shame, so past all truth.