It is in pardoning that we are pardoned.

In springtime, the only pretty ring time Birds sing, hey ding A-ding, a-ding Sweet lovers love the spring—

I find my zenith doth depend upon A most auspicious star, whose influence If now I court not, but omit, my fortunes Will ever after droop.

Inconstancy falls off ere it begins.

Thou whoreson zed! thou unnecessary letter!

O for a Muse of fire, that would ascend The brightest heaven of invention, A kingdom for a stage, princes to act And monarchs to behold the swelling scene!

Let me be that I am and seek not to alter me.