The coward dies a thousand deaths, the valiant, only once!

O love, be moderate, allay thy ecstasy, In measure rain thy joy, scant this excess!

When that the poor have cried, Caesar hath wept: Ambition should be made of sterner stuff: Yet Brutus says he was ambitious; And Brutus is an honourable man.

All surfeit is the father of much fast.

Since mine own doors refuse to entertain me, I'll knock elsewhere, to see if they'll disdain me

O! Let me not be mad, not mad, sweet heaven; keep me in temper; I would not be mad!

The miserable have no other medicine But only hope.