Moderate lamentation is the right of the dead, excessive grief the enemy to the living.
Be not afraid of greatness.
This liberty is all that I request.
And to be merry best becomes you; for, out of question, you were born in a merry hour. BEATRICE No, sure, my lord, my mother cried; but then there was a star danced, and under that was I born.
Society is no comfort, to one not sociable.
As I love the name of honour more than I fear death.