Beshrew the heart that makes my heart to groan.

Corruption wins not more than honesty. Still in thy right hand carry gentle peace, To silence envious tongues.

Our purses shall be proud, our garments poor; for 'tis the mind that makes the body rich

Hate pollutes the mind.

A cup of hot wine with not a drop of allaying Tiber in 't.

Cry "havoc!" and let loose the dogs of war, That this foul deed shall smell above the earth With carrion men, groaning for burial.

The summer's flower is to the summer sweet Though to itself it only live and die