I never yet did hear, That the bruis'd heart was pierced through the ear

I should think this a gull, but that the white-bearded fellow speaks it; knavery cannot, sure, hide himself in such reverence.

There are more things in Heaven and Earth, Horatio, than are dreamt of in your philosophy.

Oh why rebuke you him that loves you so? / Lay breath so bitter on your bitter foe.

There are many events in the womb of time which will be delivered.

O, here Will I set up my everlasting rest And shake the yoke of inauspicious stars From the world-wearied flesh

The ostentation of our love, which, left unshown, is often left unloved.