Dreams are the children of idled minds.

The venom clamours of a jealous woman poison more deadly than a mad dog's tooth.

Tell them, that, to ease them of their griefs, Their fear of hostile strokes, their aches, losses, Their pangs of love, with other incident throes That nature's fragile vessel doth sustain In life's uncertain voyage, I will some kindness do them.

A contract of eternal bond of love, Confirm'd by mutual joinder of your hands, Arrested by the holy close of lips, Strength'ned by the interchangement of your rings, And all the ceremony of this compact Seal'd in my function, by my testimony.

If this were played upon a stage now, I could condemn it as an improbable fiction.

The undiscovered country from whose bourn no traveler returns.

Men shut their doors against a setting sun.