Come not within the measure of my wrath.
Hardness ever of hardness is mother.
This royal throne of kings, this scepter'd isle, This earth of majesty, this seat of Mars, This other Eden, demi-Paradise.
We cannot all be masters.
Within the hollow crown That rounds the mortal temples of a king Keeps Death his court.
That you were once unkind befriends me now, And for that sorrow, which I then did feel, Needs must I under my transgression bow, Unless my nerves were brass or hammered steel.