I come to bury Caesar, not to praise him. The evil that men do lives after them; The good is oft interrèd with their bones.
I will meditate the while upon some horrid message for a challenge.
Come now, what masques, what dances shall we have To wear away this long age of three hours Between our after-supper and bedtime?
With every minute you do change a mind, And call him noble that was now your hate.
I think he is not a pick-purse nor a horse-stealer, but for his verity in love, I do think him as concave as a covered goblet or a worm-eaten nut.
O, it comes o'er my memory As doth the raven o'er the infected house, Boding to all!
Sweets to the sweet, farewell!
Shall I never see a bachelor of threescore again?
Come, madam wife, sit by my side And let the world slip. We shall ne'er be younger.
Famine is in thy cheeks, Need and oppression starveth in thy eyes, Contempt and beggary hangs upon thy back; The world is not thy friend, nor the world's law.