Forbear to judge for we are sinners all.
Is it not strange that desire should so many years outlive performance?
That which we call a rose, by any other name would smell as sweet
The rest is silence.
Golden lads and girls all must, like chimmney-sweepers, come to dust.
Tomorrow, and tomorrow, and tomorrow,Creeps in this petty face from day to day.
The stroke of death is as a lover's pinch, which hurts and is desired.
What, you egg? [He stabs him.]
Thought is free.
Some grief shows much of love,But much of grief shows still some want of wit.
My Crown is in my heart, not on my head:Not deck'd with Diamonds, and Indian stones:Nor to be seen: my Crown is call'd Content,A Crown it is, that seldom Kings enjoy.
Master, go on, and I will follow theeTo the last gasp with truth and loyalty.
Journeys end in lovers meeting, Every wise man's son doth know.
It is an heretic that makes the fire, Not she which burns in't.
Like as the waves make towards the pebbl'd shore, so do our minutes, hasten to their end.
Love looks not with the eyes but with the mind And therefore is winged Cupid painted blind.
I have touch'd the highest point of all my greatness And from that full meridian of my glory I haste now to my setting.
He that dies pays all debts.
I have drunk,and seen the spider."(Leontine, Act II Scene I)
O, that he were here to write me down an ass! But, masters, remember, that I am an ass; though it be not written down, yet forget not that I am an ass.