O, reason not the need! our basest beggars Are in the poorest thing superfluous. Allow not nature more than nature needs, Man's life is cheap as beast's.
Resolution thus fubbed with the rusty curb of old father antic the law.
I think The nightingale, if she should sing by day When every goose is cackling, would be thought No better a musician than the wren.
There is a tide in the affairs of men Which, taken at the flood, leads on to fortune; Omitted, all the voyage of their life Is bound in shallows and in miseries. On such a full sea are we now afloat, And we must take the current when it serves Or lose our ventures.
O Kate, nice customs curtsy to great kings. Dear Kate, you and I cannot be confined within the weak list of a country's fashion. We are the makers of manners, Kate.
King Richard. Lions make leopards tame. Mowbray. Yea, but not change his spots.
Sits the wind in that corner?
O that this too too solid flesh would melt, Thaw, and resolve itself into a dew! Or that the Everlasting had not fixed His canon 'gainst self-slaughter!
A plague upon it! I have forgot the map.
I had as lief have been myself alone.