For night's swift dragons cut the clouds full fast, And yonder shines Aurora's harbinger; At whose approach ghosts wandring here and there Troop home to church-yards.... For fear lest day should look their shames upon, They willfully exile themselves from light, And must for aye consort with black brow'd night.

a wild dedication of yourselves To undiscovered waters, undreamed shores.

There is a tide in the affairs of men

There are occasions and causes, why and wherefore in all things.

Foolery, sir, does walk about the orb like the sun; it shines everywhere.

What is past is prologue.

The jury passing on the prisoner's life may in the sworn twelve have a thief or two guiltier than him they try.