Slander, whose whisper over the world's diameter, as level as the cannon to its blank, transports its poisoned shot.

I have heard of your paintings too, well enough; God has given you one face, and you make yourselves another: you jig, you amble, and you lisp, and nick-name God's creatures, and make your wantonness your ignorance. Go to, I'll no more on't; it hath made me mad.

We do pray for mercy, and that same prayer doth teach us all to render the deeds of mercy.

Better three hours too soon, than one hour to late.

Justice always whirls in equal measure.

He is winding the watch of his wit; by and by it will strike.

Bassanio: Do all men kill all the things they do not love? Shylock: Hates any man the thing he would not kill? Bassanio: Every offence is not a hate at first.