I can call spirits from the vasty deep.
Men at sometime are the masters of their fate.
Most dear actors, eat no onions nor garlic, for we are to utter sweet breath.
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?
The time is out of joint : O cursed spite, that ever I was born to set it right!
The eye of man hath not heard, the ear of man hath not seen, man's hand is not able to taste, his tongue to conceive, nor his heart to report, what my dream was.