...too much sadness hath congealed your blood,And melancholy is the nurse of frenzy.

Pardon's the word to all.

While he was drunk asleep, or in his rage, or in the incestuous pleasure of his bed.

It is my soul that calls upon my name; How silver-sweet sound lovers' tongues by night, like softest music to attending ears! -Romeo

God's will! my liege, would you and I alone, Without more help, could fight this royal battle!

You know who you are, but know not who you could be.

Things bad begun make strong themselves by ill.