You have too much respect upon the world; They lose it that do buy it with much care.
We know what we are, but not what we may be.
There's no trust, No faith, no honesty in men; all perjured, All forsworn, all naught, all dissemblers.
I'll be no longer guilty of this sin; this sanguine coward, this bed-presser, this horseback-breaker, this huge hill of flesh.
O, had I but followed the arts!
If thou wert any way given to virtue, I would swear by thy face; my oath should be, ‘By this fire, that's God's angel:' but thou art altogether given over; and wert indeed, but for the light in thy face, the son of utter darkness.