“How many things by season season'd are, To their right praise and true perfection!”

“How much salt water thrown away in wasteTo season love, that of it doth not taste.”

“Many a true word hath been spoken in jest.”

“One touch of nature makes the whole world kin,That all with one consent praise new-born gauds,Though they are made and moulded of things past,And give to dust that is a little giltMore laud than gilt o'er-dusted.The present eye praises the present object.”

“Let not my love be called idolatry,Nor my beloved as an idol show,Since all alike my songs and praises beTo one, of one, still such, and ever so.Kind is my love to-day, to-morrow kind,Still constant in a wondrous excellence;Therefore my verse to constancy confined,One thing expressing, leaves out difference.Fair, kind, and true, is all my argument,Fair, kind, and true, varying to other words;And in this change is my invention spent,Three themes in one, which wondrous scope affords.Fair, kind, and true, have often lived alone,Which three till now, never kept seat in one.”

“How many actions most ridiculous/Hast thou been drawn to by thy fantasy?CORIN: Into a thousand that I have forgotten.SILVIUS: O, thou didst then ne'er love so heartily!/If thou remember'st not the slightest folly/That ever love did make thee run into,/Thou hast not loved:/Or if thou hast not sat as I do now,/Wearying thy hearer in thy mistress' praise,/Thou hast not loved...”

“Neither a borrower, nor a lender be;For loan oft loses both itself and friend,And borrowing dulls the edge of husbandry.This above all: to thine own self be true,   85And it must follow, as the night the day,Thou canst not then be false to any man.Farewell; my blessing season this in thee!”