for my grief's so great That no supporter but the huge firm earth Can hold it up: here I and sorrows sit; Here is my throne, bid kings come bow to it. (Constance, from King John, Act III, scene 1)

I pray you, do not fall in love with me, for I am falser than vows made in wine.

Better three hours too soon than a minute too late.

Give them great meals of beef and iron and steel, they will eat like wolves and fight like devils.

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

I hold the world but as the world, Gratiano!

I see, sir, you are liberal in offers. You taught me first to beg, and now methinks You teach me how a beggar should be answered.