I'll fight, till from my bones my flesh be hacked.

Good name in man and woman, dear my lord, Is the immediate jewel of their souls: Who steals my purse steals trash; ’tis something, nothing; ’twas mine, ’tis his, and has been slave to thousands; But he that filches from me my good name Robs me of that which not enriches him, And makes me poor indeed.

He that is thy friend indeed, he will help you in your need.

I am not of that feather, to shake off my friend when he must need me

They are sick that surfeit with too much, as they that starve with nothing.

All the world's a stage.

Her virtues, graced with external gifts, Do breed love's settled passions in my heart; And like as rigour of tempestuous gusts Provokes the mightiest hulk against the tide, So am I driven by breath of her renown Either to suffer shipwreck or arrive Where I may have fruition of her love.