Hang those that talk of fear.
Faith, stay here this night; they will surely do us no harm; you saw they speak us fair, give us gold; methinks they are such a gentle nation that, but for the mountain of mad flesh that claims marriage of me, could find in my heart to stay here still and turn witch.
There's small choice in rotten apples.
Kindness nobler ever than revenge.
O time, thou must untangle this, not I. It is too hard a knot for me t'untie.
And blind oblivion swallowed cities up.