Blood will have blood.

People’s good deeds we write in water. The evil deeds are etched in brass.

Chewing the food of sweet and bitter fancy.

Faith, stay here this night; they will surely do us no harm; you saw they speak us fair, give us gold; methinks they are such a gentle nation that, but for the mountain of mad flesh that claims marriage of me, could find in my heart to stay here still and turn witch.

My glass shall not persuade me I am old, So long as youth and thou are of one date; But when in thee time's furrows I behold, Then look I death my days should expiate.

To be honest, as this world goes, is to be one man picked out of ten thousand.

O horror! Horror! Horror! Tongue nor heart Cannot conceive nor name thee!