Fare thee well, king: sith thus thou wilt appear, Freedom lives hence, and banishment is here.
One touch of nature makes the whole world kin.
O, what a world of vile ill-favored faults, looks handsome in three hundred pounds a year!
Ay, but to die, and go we know not where.
Pastime passing excellent, if it he husbanded with modesty.
It is not, nor it cannot, come to good, But break, my heart, for I must hold my tongue.