“One woman reads another’s character Without the tedious trouble of deciphering”

I remember, the players have often mentioned it as an honour to Shakespeare, that in his writing (whatsoever he penned) he never plotted out a line. My answer hath been, would he had blotted a thousand.

Great honours are great burdens, but on whom They are cast with envy, he doth bear two loads.

Folly often goes beyond her bounds, but impudence knows none.

It strikes! one, two, Three, four, five, six. Enough, enough, dear watch, Thy pulse hath beat enough. Now sleep and rest; Would thou could’st make the time to do so too; I’ll wind thee up no more.

To the old, long life and treasure; To the young, all health and pleasure.

I glory, more in the cunning purchase of my wealth than in the glad possession.

Confound these ancestors… They’ve stolen our best ideas!

The soul of man is infinite in what it covets.

To struggle when hope is banished! To live when life’s salt is gone! To dwell in a dream that’s vanished- To endure, and go calmly on!

My thoughts and I were of another world.

Nor for my peace will I go far, As wanderers do, that still do roam, But make my strengths, such as they are, Here in my bosom, and at home.

The way to rise is to obey and please.

A new disease? I know not, new or old, but it may well be called poor mortals plague for, like a pestilence, it doth infect the houses of the brain till not a thought, or motion, in the mind, be free from the black poison of suspect.

Affliction teacheth a wicked person sometime to pray; prosperity never.

Who falls for love of God, shall rise a star.

The world knows only two, that’s Rome and I.