Suspicion always haunts the guilty mind.

O, wonder! How many goodly creatures are there here! How beauteous mankind is! O brave new world, That has such people in't!

If chance will have me king, why, chance may crown me.

God's will! my liege, would you and I alone, Without more help, could fight this royal battle!

That truth should be silent I had almost forgot. (Enobarbus)

To be slow in words is a woman's only virtue.

True, I talk of dreams, Which are the children of an idle brain, Begot of nothing but vain fantasy, Which is as thin of substance as the air, And more inconstant than the wind, who woos Even now the frozen bosom of the north, And, being anger'd, puffs away from thence, Turning his side to the dew-dropping south.