"I must to the barber's, monsieur; for methinks, I am marvellous hairy about the face: and I am such a tender ass, if my hair do but tickle me, I must scratch."

"What, you egg! Young fry of treachery!"

"Life's but a walking shadow, a poor player that struts and frets his hour upon the stage and then is heard no more."

"The better part of valour is discretion."

"I had rather hear a brazen canstick turn'd, or a dry wheel grate on the axle-tree."