Uneasy lies the head that wears a crown.

Love moderately; long love doth so; too swift arrives as tardy as too slow.

He that loves to be flattered is worthy o' the flatterer.

O sleep, O gentle sleep, Nature's soft nurse, how have I frightened thee, 1710. That thou no more will weigh my eyelids down, And steep my senses in forgetfulness?

Wherefore was I to this keen mockery born? When at your hands did I deserve this scorn? Is't not enough, is't not enough, young man, That I did never, no, nor never can, Deserve a sweet look from Demetrius' eye, But you must flout my insufficiency?

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

Mind your speech a little lest you should mar your fortunes.