The web of our life is of a mingled yarn, good and ill together ...

Give every man thine ear, but few thy voice.

that I were a glove upon that hand, that I might touch that cheek!

When love begins to sicken and decay, It useth an enforced ceremony. There are no tricks in plain and simple faith.

When my love swears that she is made of truth, I do believe her, though I know she lies ...

Every man is odd.

Men should be what they seem.

What a piece of work is man!

Though this be madness, yet there is method in't.

The quality of mercy is not strain'd, It droppeth as the gentle rain from heaven Upon the place beneath: it is twice blest; It blesseth him that gives and him that takes ...