You take my life when you do take the means whereby I live.
Well, if fortune be a woman, she’s a good wench for this gear.
These blessed candles of the night.
The man that hath no music in himself, Nor is not moved with concord of sweet sounds, Is fit for treasons, stratagems, and spoils.
Let none presume to wear an undeserved dignity. O that estates, degrees, and offices, were not derived corruptly, and that clear honor were purchased by the merit of the wearer.
If you prick us, do we not bleed? if you tickle us, do we not laugh? if you poison us, do we not die? and if you wrong us, shall we not revenge?
I like not fair terms and a villain’s mind.
All that glitters is not gold.
With mirth and laughter let old wrinkles come.
Where every something, being blent together, turns to a wild of nothing.
To do a great right, do a little wrong.
There is no vice so simple, but assumes some mark of virtue on his outward parts.
