With devotion's visage and pious action we do sugar o'er the devil himself.
The time is out of joint : O cursed spite, that ever I was born to set it right!
There is special providence in the fall of a sparrow.
But to my mind, though I am native here, And to the manner born, it is a custom, More honored in the breach than the observance.
If thou dost marry, I'll give thee this plague for thy dowry: be thou as chaste as ice, as pure as snow, thou shalt not escape calumny.
It is not, nor it cannot, come to good, But break, my heart, for I must hold my tongue.
I do not set my life at a pin's fee,
And for my soul, what can it do to that,
Being a thing immortal as itself?
What if this cursed hand
Were thicker than itself with brother's blood
Is there not rain enough in the sweet heaves
To wash it white as snow?
You cannot, sir, take from me any thing that I will more willingly part withal: except my life, except my life, except my life.
O God, I could be bound in a nutshell, and count myself a king of infinite space – were it not that I have bad dreams.
I must be cruel only to be kind; Thus bad begins, and worse remains behind.
More matter with less art.
The cat will mew, and dog will have his day.
So full of artless jealousy is guilt, It spills itself in fearing to be spilt.
There's a divinity that shapes our ends, Rough-hew them how we will.
That if you be honest and fair, your honesty should admit no discourse to your beauty.
The Devil hath power To assume a pleasing shape.
There is nothing either good or bad but thinking makes it so.
Hamlet: Is this a prologue, or the posy of a ring? Ophelia: 'Tis brief, my lord. Hamlet: As woman's love.
Neither a borrower nor a lender be, for loan oft loses both itself and friend, and borrowing dulls the edge of husbandry.
Shakespeare said: "There's a special providence in the fall of a sparrow." Everything happens perfectly.
The lady doth protest too much, methinks.
Murder most foul, as in the best it it; But this most foul, strange, and unnatural.
Thrift, thrift, Horatio! The funeral bak'd meats did coldly furnish forth the marriage tables.
Tis in my memory lock'd, And you yourself shall keep the key of it.
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