Read o'er this And after, this, and then to breakfast with What appetite you have.
I never see thy face but I think upon hell-fire.
Gratiano speaks an infinite deal of nothing, more than any man in all Venice. His reasons are as two grains of wheat hid in two bushels of chaff: you shall seek all day ere you find them, and when you have them, they are not worth the search.
Modest wisdom plucks me from over-credulous haste.
I have supped full with horrors.
Romans, countrymen, and lovers, hear me for my cause, and be silent, that you may hear.