Mine honour is my life; both grow in one; Take honour from me, and my life is done.
For in that sleep of death what dreams may come.
The undiscovered country from whose bourn no traveler returns.
I have no way and therefore want no eyes I stumbled when I saw. Full oft 'tis seen our means secure us, and our mere defects prove our commodities.
Thou weigh'st thy words before thou givest them breath.
. . from this moment The very firstlings of my heart shall be The firstlings of my hand. And even now, To crown my thoughts with acts, be it thought and done.