The play's the thing.

The summer's flower is to the summer sweet Though to itself it only live and die

'Tis better to bear the ills we have than fly to others that we know not of.

RUMOUR: "Upon my tongues continual slanders ride, The which in every language I pronounce, Stuffing the ears of men with false reports.

I can easier teach twenty what were good to be done, than be one of the twenty to follow mine own teaching.

My affection hath an unknown bottom, like the Bay of Portugal.

Such men as he be never at heart's ease Whiles they behold a greater than themselves, And therefore are they very dangerous.