The evil that men do lives after them; the good is oft interred with their bones.
Lawless are they that make their wills their law.
Love is a smoke made with the fume of sighs.
With mirth and laughter let old wrinkles come.
Many a good hanging prevents a bad marriage.
All the world’s a stage, and all the men and women merely players: they have their exits and their entrances; and one man in his time plays many parts, his acts being seven ages.
There was never yet fair woman but she made mouths in a glass.
This above all; to thine own self be true.
There’s place and means for every man alive.
Love to faults is always blind, always is to joy inclined. Lawless, winged, and unconfined, and breaks all chains from every mind.
O’ What may man within him hide, though angel on the outward side!
I bear a charmed life.
A fool thinks himself to be wise, but a wise man knows himself to be a fool.
Praise us as we are tasted, allow us as we prove.
I had rather have a fool to make me merry than experience to make me sad and to travel for it too!
Use every man after his desert, and who should scape whipping?
If music be the food of love, play on.
I hold the world but as the world, Gratiano; A stage where every man must play a part, And mine is a sad one.
But love is blind, and lovers cannot see_The pretty follies that themselves commit.
He does it with better grace, but I do it more natural.
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