so full of shapes is fancy
Cursed be the hand that made these fatal holes.
The apprehension of the good Gives but the greater feeling to the worse.
Thy best of rest is sleep, And that thou oft provok'st; yet grossly fear'st Thy death, which is no more.
A good wit will make use of anything.
When you do dance, I wish you a wave o' the sea, that you might ever do nothing but that.