My heart suspects more than mine eye can see.

We wound our modesty and make foul the clearness of our deservings, when of ourselves we publish them.

Foul words is but foul wind, and foul wind is but foul breath, and foul breath is noisome; therefore I will depart unkissed.

But yet I'll make assurance double sure, and take a bond of fate: thou shalt not live.

Do all men kill the things they do not love ............ The quality of mercy is not strain'd It droppeth as the gentle rain from heaven Upon the place beneath: it is twice blest It blesseth him that gives and him that takes

Society is no comfort, to one not sociable.

Thou hast the most unsavoury similes.