When he shall die, Take him and cut him out in little stars, And he will make the face of heaven so fine That all the world will be in love with night And pay no worship to the garish sun.

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

This thou perceivest, which makes thy love more strong, to love that well which thou must leave ere long

The lady doth protest too much, methinks.

Every subject's duty is the Kings, but every subject's soul is his own.

Though those that are betray'd Do feel the treason sharply, yet the traitor stands in worse case of woe

In sooth I know not why I am so sad. It wearies me, you say it wearies you; But how I caught it, found it, or came by it, What stuff 'tis made of, whereof it is born, I am to learn.