The arms are fair, When the intent of bearing them is just.
Why what a fool was I to this drunken monster for a God. - Caliban
Heaven take my soul, and England keep my bones!
Wherefore was I to this keen mockery born? When at your hands did I deserve this scorn? Is't not enough, is't not enough, young man, That I did never, no, nor never can, Deserve a sweet look from Demetrius' eye, But you must flout my insufficiency?
Love asks me no questions, and gives me endless support.
There is no vice so simple but assumes some mark of virtue on his outward parts.