My father's wit, and my mother's tongue, assist me!

Out, damned spot! Out, I say!

One fire burns out another's burning, One pain is lessen'd by another's anguish.

Gives not the hawthorn bush a sweeter shade To shepherds, looking on their silly sheep, Than doth a rich embroider'd canopy To kings that fear their subjects treachery?

The better part of valor is discretion, in the which better part I have saved my life.

The will is infinite and the execution confin'd, the desire is boundless and the act a slave to limit.

Love is too young to know what conscience is.