Ships are but boards, sailors but men; there be land-rats and water-rats, water-thieves and land-thieves, I mean pirates, and thenthere is the peril of waters, winds, and rocks.

And why not death rather than living torment? To die is to be banish'd from myself; And Silvia is myself: banish'd from her Is self from self: a deadly banishment!

This sanguine coward, this bed-presser, this horseback-breaker, this huge hill of flesh!

Sometimes when we are labeled, when we are branded our brand becomes our calling.

The moon of Rome, chaste as the icicle that's curded by the frost from purest snow.

Corruption wins not more than honesty. Still in thy right hand carry gentle peace, To silence envious tongues.

Woe, destruction, ruin, and decay; the worst is death and death will have his day.