He must needs go that the devil drives.

The first thing we do, let's kill all the lawyers.

Music can minister to minds diseased, pluck from the memory a rooted sorrow, raze out the written troubles of the brain, and with its sweet oblivious antidote, cleanse the full bosom of all perilous stuff that weighs upon the heart.

Thrift, thrift, Horatio! The funeral bak'd meats did coldly furnish forth the marriage tables.

A glooming peace this morning with it brings; The sun, for sorrow, will not show his head: Go hence, to have more talk of these sad things; Some shall be pardon'd, and some punished: For never was a story of more woe Than this of Juliet and her Romeo.

Conceit in weakest bodies works the strongest.

There was never yet fair woman but she made mouths in a glass.