Is this a dagger which I see before me, The handle toward my hand?

Beauty's a doubtful good, a glass, a flower, Lost, faded, broken, dead within an hour; And beauty, blemish'd once, for ever's lost, In spite of physic, painting, pain, and cost.

What showers arise, blown with the windy tempest of my heart

Romans, countrymen, and lovers, hear me for my cause, and be silent, that you may hear.

Thus may poor fools Belive false teachers.

O,speak to me no more;these words like daggers enter my ears.(a fancy way of saying SHUT UP!)" — William Shakespeare "hamlet

That in the captains but a choleric word Which in the soldier is flat blasphemy.