This royal throne of kings, this sceptered isle, This earth of majesty, this seat of Mars, This other Eden, demi-paradise, This fortress built by Nature for herself Against infection and the hand of war, This happy breed of men, this little world, This precious stone set in the silver sea, Which serves it in the office of a wall Or as a moat defensive to a house, Against the envy of less happier lands,--This blessed plot, this earth, this realm, this England.

Who could refrain that had a heart to love and in that heart courage to make love known?

And nature must obey necessity.

So musical a discord, such sweet thunder.

Why should honor outlive honestly? Orthello

He uses his folly like a stalking-horse, and under the presentation of that he shoots his wit.

Hang those that talk of fear.