O, what a world of vile ill-favoured faults, Looks handsome in three hundred pounds a year!
And oftentimes excusing of a fault Doth make the fault the worser by th' excuse.
Remember that you call on me today. Be near me, that I may remember you.
There are more things in heaven and earth, Horatio, Than are dreamt of in our philosophy.
I see a man's life is a tedious one.
Under an old oak, whose boughs were mossed with age And high top bald with dry antiquity.
I find my zenith doth depend upon A most auspicious star, whose influence If now I court not, but omit, my fortunes Will ever after droop.
I shall forget, to have thee still stand there, Remembering how I love thy company.
Was ever feather so lightly blown to and fro as this multitude?
Put money in thy purse.