All lovers swear more performance than they are able, and yet reserve an ability that they never perform; vowing more than the perfection of ten, and discharging less than the tenth part of one.

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.

Gold were as good as twenty orators.

We all are men, in our own natures frail, and capable of our flesh; few are angels.

Frame your mind to mirth and merriment which bars a thousand harms and lengthens life.

Then was I as a tree whose boughs did bend with fruit; but in one night, a storm or robbery, call it what you will, shook down my mellow hangings, nay, my leaves, and left me bare to weather.

There's a divinity that shapes our ends, Rough-hew them how we will.