Society and the World

No ceremony that to great ones ’longs, Not the king’s crown, nor the deputed sword, The marshal’s truncheon, nor the judge’s robe, Become them with one half so good a grace As mercy does.

No ceremony that to great ones ’longs, Not the king’s crown, nor the deputed sword, The marshal’s truncheon, nor the judge’s robe, Become them with one half so good a grace As mercy does.

Some rise by sin, and some by virtue fall.

We must not make a scarecrow of the law, Setting it up to fear the birds of prey, And let it keep one shape, till custom make it Their perch and not their terror.

We must not make a scarecrow of the law, Setting it up to fear the birds of prey, And let it keep one shape, till custom make it Their perch and not their terror.

The jury, passing on the prisoner’s life, May in the sworn twelve have a thief or two Guiltier than him they try.

The jury, passing on the prisoner’s life, May in the sworn twelve have a thief or two Guiltier than him they try.

And liberty plucks justice by the nose.

And liberty plucks justice by the nose.

All’s well that ends well: still the fine’s the crown; Whate’er the course, the end is the renown.

There’s place and means for every man alive.

My friends were poor, but honest. 41

Love all, trust a few, Do wrong to none: be able for thine enemy Rather in power than use, and keep thy friend Under thy own life’s key: be check’d for silence, But never tax’d for speech.

I hate ingratitude more in a man Than lying, vainness, babbling drunkenness, Or any taint of vice whose strong corruption Inhabits our frail blood.

Then westward-ho!

When my tongue blabs, then let mine eyes not see.

And give to dust that is a little gilt More laud than gilt o’er-dusted.

For honor travels in a strait so narrow Where one but goes abreast.

Perseverance, dear my lord, Keeps honor bright: to have done, is to hang Quite out of fashion, like a rusty mail In monumental mockery.

’Tis mad idolatry To make the service greater than the god.

The chance of war.

Reason, in itself confounded, Saw division grow together.

There’s such divinity doth hedge a king, That treason can but peep to what it would.

How should I your true love know From another one? By his cockle hat and staff, And his sandal shoon. 35