O God, I could be bounded in a nutshell, and count myself a king of infinite space, were it not that I have bad dreams.
How noble in reason! how infinite in faculties! in form and moving, how express and admirable! in action how like an angel! in apprehension, how like a god! the beauty of the world! the paragon of animals!
—I knew him, Horatio; a fellow of infinite jest, of most excellent fancy: he hath borne me on his back a thousand times; and now, how abhorred in my imagination it is! my gorge rises at it.
…the o’ergrowth of some complexion, Oft breaking down the pales and forts of reason; Or by some habit, that too much o’er-leavens The form of plausive manners;—that these men,— Carrying, I say, the stamp of one defect, Being nature’s livery, or fortune’s star,— Their virtues else,—be they as pure as grace, As infinite as man may undergo,— Shall in the general censure take corruption From that particular fault: the dram of eale Doth all the noble substance often doubt To his own scandal.