He knows what it's like to strut and fret his hour upon the stage and then be heard no more.

I cannot tell what the dickens his name is.

Thus may poor fools Belive false teachers.

Shall I compare thee to a summer day? Thou art more lovely and more temperate... When in eternal lines to time thou growst So long as men can breathe or eyes can see, So long lives this, and this gives life to thee.

I am ill at these numbers.

To be honest, as this world goes, is to be one man picked out of ten thousand.

Bid me discourse, I will enchant thine ear