All days are nights to see till I see thee, And nights bright days when dreams do show thee me.

O tiger's heart wrapped in a woman's hide!

Dream on, dream on, of bloody deeds and death.

Gloucester, we have done deeds of charity, made peace of enmity, fair love of hate, between these swelling wrong-incensed peers.

Happy are they that hear their detractions, and can put them to mending.

His words are bonds, his oaths are oracles; his love sincere, his thoughts immaculate; his tears pure messengers sent from his heart; his heart as far from fraud, as heaven from earth

Cry "havoc!" and let loose the dogs of war, That this foul deed shall smell above the earth With carrion men, groaning for burial.