The silence often of pure innocence persuades when speaking fails.

I am afeard there are few die well that die in battle, for how can they charitably dispose of anything when blood is their argument?

O, let me kiss that hand! KING LEAR: Let me wipe it first; it smells of mortality.

Cannot you tell that? Every fool can tell that. It was the very day that young Hamlet was born, he that is mad and sent into England." "Ay, marry, why was he sent into England?" "Why, because he was mad. He shall recover his wits there, or, if he do not, it's no great matter there." "Why?" "'Twill not be seen in him there. There the men are as mad as he.

what cannot be saved when fate takes, patience her injury a mockery makes

Chewing the food of sweet and bitter fancy.

My love admits no qualifying dross