They do not abuse the king that flatter him. For flattery is the bellows blows up sin; The thing the which is flattered, but a spark To which that blast gives heat and stronger glowing.

Fit for the mountains and the barbarous caves, where manners ne'er were preached.

Truth will come to sight; murder cannot be hid long.

Short time seems long in sorrow's sharp sustaining.

Thou hast not half that power to do me harm As I have to be hurt.

You have her father's love, Demetrius; Let me have Hermia's: do you marry him!

My stronger guilt defeats my strong intent.