We are such stuff as dreams are made on, and our little life is rounded with a sleep.
O wonder! How many goodly creatures are there here! How beauteous mankind is! O brave new world That has such people in’t.
Hell is empty and all the devils are here.
He’s winding up the Watch of his wit, By and by it will strike.
You taught me language; and my profit on ‘t is, I know how to curse.
What’s past is prologue.
Misery acquaints a man with strange bedfellows.
Me, poor man, my library was dukedom large enough.
Look, he’s winding up the watch of his wit; by and by it will strike.
