The Play's the Thing, wherein I'll catch the conscience of the King.

Get thee glass eyes, and like a scurvy politician, seem to see the things thou dost not.

Civil dissension is a viperous worm That gnaws the bowels of the commonwealth.

So are you to my thoughts as food to life, or as sweet seasoned showers are to the ground.

Is this government of Britain's Isle, and this the royalty of Albion's King?

There is no terror, Cassius, in your threats, For I am armed so strong in honesty That they pass by me as the idle wind

Fools are as like husbands as pilchards are to herrings, the husband's the bigger.