We know what we are, but know not what we may be.
Take you me for a sponge?
Tell me, daughter Juliet, How stands your dispositions to be married" It is an honor that I dream not of
To show our simple skill, That is the true beginning of our end.
Let every eye negotiate for itself and trust no agent.
Rude am I in my speech, And little blessed with the soft phrase of peace.