I am indeed not her fool, but her corrupter of words. (Act III, sc. I, 37-38)

Death is my son-in-law, death is my heir.

If we shadows have offended, Think but this, and all is mended, That you have but slumbered here While these visions did appear. And this weak and idle theme, No more yielding but a dream, Gentles, do not reprehend: If you pardon, we will mend: And, as I am an honest Puck, If we have unearned luck Now to 'scape the serpent's tongue, We will make amends ere long; Else the Puck a liar call; So, good night unto you all. Give me your hands, if we be friends, And Robin shall restore amends.

But O, how bitter a thing it is to look into happiness through another man's eyes.

I will kill thee a hundred and fifty ways.

I begin to find an idle and fond bondage in the oppression of aged tyranny, who sways, not as it hath power, but as it is suffered.

A true repentance shuns the evil itself, more than the external suffering or the shame.