Men must endure Their going hence, even as their coming hither. Ripeness is all.

Lovers and madmen have such seething brains Such shaping fantasies, that apprehend More than cool reason ever comprehends.

Double, double, toil and trouble; Fire burn, and cauldron bubble!

There's no trust, No faith, no honesty in men; all perjured, All forsworn, all naught, all dissemblers.

That god forbid, that made me first your slave, I should in thought control your times of pleasure, Or at your hand th' account of hours to crave, Being your vassal bound to stay your leisure.

For I can raise no money by vile means. By heaven, I had rather coin my heart, And drop my blood for drachmas

Thou unfit for any place but hell.