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Conscience is but a word that cowards use, Devised at first to keep the strong in awe.


Cowards die many times before their deaths; the valiant never taste of death but once.


Death lies on her, like an untimely frost Upon the sweetest flower of all the field.




Faith, there hath been many great men that have flattered the people who ne'er loved them.

Fishes live in the sea, as men do a-land; the great ones eat up the little ones.

For murder, though it have no tongue, will speak With most miraculous organ.




Give every man thine ear, but few thy voice; Take each man's censure, but reserve thy judgment.



Good night, good night! Parting is such sweet sorrow, that I shall say good night till it be morrow.

Happy thou art not; for what thou hast not, still thou striv'est to get; and what thou hast, forget'est.


He draweth out the thread of his verbosity finer than the staple of his argument.


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