The time is out of joint.
The arms are fair, When the intent of bearing them is just.
These earthly godfathers of Heaven's lights, that give a name to every fixed star, have no more profit of their shining nights than those that walk and know not what they are.
How low am I, thou painted maypole?
Look how the world's poor people are amazed at apparitions, signs and prodigies!
Conscience is a blushing, shamefaced spirit than mutinies in a man's bosom; it fills one full of obstacles.