O no, thy love though much, is not so great, It is my love that keeps mine eye awake, Mine own true love that doth my rest defeat, To play the watchman ever for thy sake. For thee watch I, whilst thou dost wake elsewhere, From me far off, with others all too near.

Live how we can, yet die we must.

Wisely, I say, I am a bachelor.

To thine own self be true, and it must follow, as the night the day, thou canst not then be false to any man.

For a quart of ale is a dish for a king.

I can see he's not in your good books,' said the messenger. 'No, and if he were I would burn my library.

How far that little candle throws its beams! So shines a good deed in a naughty world.