Your tale, sir, would cure deafness.

There's nothing ill can dwell in such a temple:

If the ill spirit have so fair a house,

Good things will strive to dwell with 't.

You taught me language; and my profit on't

Is, I know how to curse.

Full fathom five thy father lies;

Of his bones are coral made;

Those are pearls that were his eyes:

Nothing of him that doth fade

But doth suffer a sea-change

Into something rich and strange.

Sea-nymphs hourly ring his knell:

Ding-dong.

Hark! now I hear them, ding-dong, bell.

What's past is prologue.

I' the commonwealth I would by contraries

Execute all things; for no kind of traffic

Would I admit; no name of magistrate;

Letters should not be known; riches, poverty,

And use of service, none; contract, succession,

Bourn, bound of land, tilth, vineyard, none;

No use or metal, corn, or wine, or oil;

No occupation; all men idle, all;

And women too, but innocent and pure.

Ebbing men, indeed,

Most often do so near the bottom run

By their own fear or sloth.

All the infections that the sun sucks up

From bogs, fens, flats, on Prosper fall, and make him

By inch-mail a disease! his spirits hear me,

And yet I needs must curse. But they'll nor pinch,

Fright me with urchin-shows, pitch me i' the mire,

Nor lead me, like a firebrand, in the dark

Out of my way, unless he bid 'em: but

For every trifle are they set upon me;

Sometimes like apes, that mow and chatter at me,

And after bite me; then like hedgehogs, which

Lie tumbling in my barefoot way, and mount

Their pricks at my footfall; sometime am I

All wound with adders, who with cloven tongues

Do hiss me into madness.

When they will not give a doit to relieve a lame beggar, they will lay out ten to see a dead Indian.

Misery acquaints a man with strange bedfellows.

Full many a lady

I have eyed with best regard, and many a time

The harmony of their tongue hath into bondage

Brought my too diligent ear: for several virtues

Have I liked several women; never any

With so full soul, but some defect in her

Did quarrel with the noblest grace she owed,

And put it to the foil.

Some kinds of baseness are nobly undergone.

Most poor matters point to rich ends.

Thought is free.

He that dies pays all debts.

Sometimes a thousand twangling instruments

Will hum about mine ears, and sometime voices

That, if I then had waked after long sleep,

Will make me sleep again: and then, in dreaming,

The clouds methought would open and show riches

Ready to drop upon me that, when I waked,

I cried to dream again.

I'll be sworn 'tis true: travellers ne'er did lie,

Though fools at home condemn 'em.

The rarer action is

In virtue than in vengeance.

Our revels now are ended. These our actors,

As I foretold you, were all spirits, and

Are melted into air, into thin air:

And, like the baseless fabric of this vision,

The cloud-capped towers, the gorgeous palaces,

The solemn temples, the great globe itself,

Yea, all which it inherit, shall dissolve,

And, like this insubstantial pageant faded,

Leave not a rack behind. We are such stuff

As dreams are made on; and our little life

Is rounded with a sleep.

I have been in such a pickle, since I saw you last, that, I fear me, will never out of my bones: I shall not fear fly-blowing.

Where the bee sucks, there suck I;

In a cowslip's bell I lie;

There I cough where owls do cry.

On the bat's back I do fly

After summer merrily:

Merrily, merrily shall I live now,

Under the blossom that hangs on the bough.

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