If you prick us do we not bleed? If you tickle us do we not laugh? If you poison us do we not die? And if you wrong us shall we not revenge?

Men of few words are the best men." (3.2.41)

Let men say we be men of good government, being governed, as the sea is, by our noble and chaste mistress the moon, under whose countenance we steal.

O love, be moderate, allay thy ecstasy, In measure rain thy joy, scant this excess!

One fire burns out another's burning, One pain is lessen'd by another's anguish.

I hold the world but as the world, Gratiano; A stage where every man must play a part, And mine is a sad one.

Our wills and fates do so contrary run, That our devices still are overthrown; Our thoughts are ours, their ends none of our own.