O God, I could be bound in a nutshell, and count myself a king of infinite space – were it not that I have bad dreams.

There is a devilish mercy in the judge, if you'll implore it, that will free your life, but fetter you till death.

Though it make the unskillful laugh, cannot but make the judicious grieve.

How quickly nature falls into revolt When gold becomes her object! For this the foolish over-careful fathers Have broke their sleep with thoughts, their brains with care, Their bones with industry.

And oft, my jealousy shapes faults that are not.

Talking isn't doing. It is a kind of good deed to say well; and yet words are not deeds.

Thou shalt be free As mountain winds: but then exactly do All points of my command.