Who is it that can tell me who I am?

You cannot make gross sins look clear: To revenge is no valour, but to bear.

Fear and niceness, the handmaids of all women, or more truly, woman its pretty self.

What's in a name? That which we call a rose by any other name would smell as sweet.

You cram these words into mine ears against The stomach of my sense.

To thine own self be true, and it must follow, as the night the day, thou canst not then be false to any man.

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