Then love-devouring Death do what he dare.

Weariness can snore upon the flint when resting sloth finds the down pillow hard.

GLOUCESTER: I do not know that Englishman alive With whom my soul is any jot at odds, More than the infant that is born to-night: I thank my God for my humility.

If we are true to ourselves, we can not be false to anyone.

Friends, Romans, countrymen, lend me your ears; I come to bury Caesar, not to praise him.

I am your wife if you will marry me. If not, I'll die your maid. To be your fellow You may deny me, but I'll be your servant Whether you will or no.

I kissed thee ere I killed thee. No way but this, Killing myself, to die upon a kiss.