Heaven is above all yet; there sits a judge, That no king can corrupt.

What is past is prologue.

If chance will have me king, why, chance may crown me.

World, world, O world! But that thy strange mutations make us hate thee/ Life would not yield to age.

In friendship, as in love, we are often happier through our ignorance than our knowledge.

The teeming Autumn big with rich increase, bearing the wanton burden of the prime like widowed wombs after their lords decease.

Sir, he's a good dog, and a fair dog.