See what a ready tongue suspicion hath!
There are more things in Heaven and Earth, Horatio, than are dreamt of in your philosophy.
O, Thou hast damnable iteration; and art, indeed, able to corrupt a saint.
Self-love, my liege, is not so vile a sin, as self-neglecting.
There is no sure foundation set on blood, No certain life achieved by others' death.
He wears his faith but as the fashion of his hat.