Nice customs curtsy to great kings.

Men must endure Their going hence, even as their coming hither. Ripeness is all.

Madam, you have bereft me of all words, Only my blood speaks to you in my veins.

Reputation is an idle and most false imposition; oft got without merit, and lost without deserving.

How much better is it to weep at joy than to joy at weeping?

And what’s he then that says I play the villain?

Use every man after his desert, and who should scape whipping?