“Ill-weaved ambition, how much art thou shrunk! When that this body did contain a spirit a kingdom for it was to small a bound. But now two paces of the vilest earth are room enough”

“How art thou out of breath when thou hast breathTo say to me that thou art out of breath?”

“O serpent heart, hid with a flowering face!Did ever dragon keep so fair a cave?Beautiful tyrant! fiend angelical!Dove-feather'd raven! wolvish-ravening lamb!Despised substance of divinest show!Just opposite to what thou justly seem'st,A damned saint, an honourable villain!O nature, what hadst thou to do in hell;When thou didst bower the spirit of a fiendIn mortal paradise of such sweet flesh?Was ever book containing such vile matterSo fairly bound? O that deceit should dwellIn such a gorgeous palace!”

“Truly thou art damned, like an ill-roasted egg, all on one side.”

“Now let it work. Mischief, thou art afoot. Take thou what course thou wilt.”

“Fear not, Cesario, take thy fortunes up. Be that thou know'st thou art and then thou art as great as that thou fear'st.”

“For where thou art, there is the world itself,With every several pleasure in the world,And where thou art not, desolation.”