Lawless are they that make their wills their law.

I cannot tell what the dickens his name is.

POLONIUS: What do you read, my lord? HAMLET: Words, words, words.

I know a bank where the wild thyme blows, Where oxlips and the nodding violet grows, Quite over-canopied with luscious woodbine, With sweet musk-roses and with eglantine.

And Caesar shall go forth.

Haste is needful in a desperate case.

Nothing routs us but the villainy of our fears.