The king's name is a tower of strength.

Short time seems long in sorrow's sharp sustaining.

Speak the speech, I pray you, as I pronounc'd it to you, trippingly on the tongue.

With mirth and laughter let old wrinkles come. And let my liver rather heat with wine, than my heart cool with mortifying groans.

No, Cassius; for the eye sees not itself, But by reflection, by some other things.

There's rosemary, that's for remembrance. Pray you, love, remember.

Men at sometime are the masters of their fate.