What a deformed thief this fashion is.

If the skin were parchment and the blows you gave were ink, Your own handwriting would tell you what I think.

There are more things in Heaven and Earth, Horatio, than are dreamt of in your philosophy.

Within the book and volume of thy brain.

The quality of mercy is not strain'd, It droppeth as the gentle rain from heaven Upon the place beneath: it is twice blest; It blesseth him that gives and him that takes: 'Tis mightiest in the mightiest: it becomes The throned monarch better than his crown; His sceptre shows the force of temporal power, The attribute to awe and majesty, Wherein doth sit the dread and fear of kings; But mercy is above this sceptred sway; It is enthroned in the hearts of kings, It is an attribute to God himself; And earthly power doth then show likest God's When mercy seasons justice.

Set your heart at rest. The fairyland buys not the child of me.

To show our simple skill, That is the true beginning of our end.