Truth needs no color; beauty, no pencil.

One sin another doth provoke.

This most excellent canopy, the air, look you, this brave o-erhanging firmament, this majestical roof fretted with golden fire.

Love is merely a madness, and, I tell you, deserves as well a dark house and a whip as madmen do.

I am one, sir, that comes to tell you your daughter and the Moor are now making the beast with two backs.(IAGO,ActI,SceneI)

What power is it which mounts my love so high, that makes me see, and cannot feed mine eye

O sleep, O gentle sleep, Nature's soft nurse, how have I frightened thee, 1710. That thou no more will weigh my eyelids down, And steep my senses in forgetfulness?