He hath disgrac'd me and hind'red me half a million; laugh'd at my losses, mock'd at my gains, scorned my nation, thwarted my bargains, cooled my friends, heated my enemies. And what's his reason? I am a Jew.

Here comes a man of comfort, whose advice Hath often stilled my brawling discontent.

For Brutus, as you know, was Caesar's angel: Judge, O you gods, how dearly Caesar loved him! This was the most unkindest cut of all

While he was drunk asleep, or in his rage, or in the incestuous pleasure of his bed.

Once more unto the breach, dear friends, once more; Or close the wall with our English dead.

They told me I was everything. 'Tis a lie, I am not ague-proof.

Tis an ill cook that cannot lick his own fingers.