The quality of mercy is not strain'd, It droppeth as the gentle rain from heaven Upon the place beneath: it is twice blest; It blesseth him that gives and him that takes: 'Tis mightiest in the mightiest: it becomes The throned monarch better than his crown; His sceptre shows the force of temporal power, The attribute to awe and majesty, Wherein doth sit the dread and fear of kings; But mercy is above this sceptred sway; It is enthroned in the hearts of kings, It is an attribute to God himself; And earthly power doth then show likest God's When mercy seasons justice.

Under the greenwood tree, Who loves to lie with me And tune his merry note, Unto the sweet bird's throat; Come hither, come hither, come hither. Here shall he see No enemy But winter and rough weather.

Give obedience where 'tis truly owed.

The miserable have no other medicine But only hope.

O! Let me not be mad, not mad, sweet heaven; keep me in temper; I would not be mad!

Why are our bodies soft, and weak, and smooth But that our soft conditions and our hearts Should well agree with our external parts?

Polonius: Do you know me, my lord? Hamlet: Excellent well. You are a fishmonger.