My tongue will tell the anger of my heart, or else my heart concealing it will break.
Some rise by sin, and some by virtue fall.
Speak, my fair, and fairly, I pray thee.
No matter where; of comfort no man speak: Let's talk of graves, of worms, and epitaphs; Make dust our paper and with rainy eyes Write sorrow on the bosom of the earth
A very ancient and fish-like smell.
The play's the thing.