My noble father, I do perceive here a divided duty. To you I am bound for life and education. My life and education both do learn me How to respect you. You are the lord of my duty, I am hitherto your daughter. But here’s my husband, And so much duty as my mother showed To you, preferring you before her father, So much I challenge that I may profess Due to the Moor my lord.

It is silliness to live when to live is torment, and then have we a prescription to die when death is our physician.

Away, you cut-purse rascal! you filthy bung, away! By this wine, I'll thrust my knife in your mouldy chaps, an you play the saucy cuttle with me. Away, you bottle-ale rascal! you basket-hilt stale juggler, you!

Good night, good night! Parting is such sweet sorrow, that I shall say good night till it be morrow.

It is the cowish terror of his spirit that dares not undertake; he'll not feel wrongs which tie him to an answer.

He is not great who is not greatly good.

True, I talk of dreams, Which are the children of an idle brain, Begot of nothing but vain fantasy.