Youth to itself rebels, though none else near.
Virtue itself ‘scapes not calumnious strokes.
Thus conscience does make cowards of us all.
Your bait of falsehood takes this carp of truth.
To weep with them that weep doth ease some deal, but sorrow flouted at is double death.
Marriage is a matter of more worth than to be dealt in by attorneyship.
If you have hitherto conceal’d this sight, Let it be tenable in your silence still; And whatsoever else shall hap to-night, Give it an understanding, but no tongue.
Winter’s not gone yet, if the wild-geese fly that way.
When sorrows come, they come not single spies but in battalions.
Uneasy lies the head that wears a crown.
Things done well, And with a care, exempt themselves from fear.
Sweet mercy is nobility’s true badge.