The sense of death is most in apprehension, And the poor beetle, that we tread upon, In corporal sufferance finds a pang as great As when a giant dies.

Use every man after his desert, and who should scape whipping?

Cordelia! stay a little. Ha! What is't thou say'st? Her voice was ever soft.

Not a whit, we defy augury: there's a special providence in the fall of a sparrow. If it be now, 'tis not to come; if it be not to come, it will be now; if it be not now, yet it will come: the readiness is all.

Death, that hath suck'd the honey of thy breath hath had no power yet upon thy beauty.

My love is strengthen'd, though more weak in seeming; I love not less, though less the show appear: That love is merchandised whose rich esteeming The owner's tongue doth publish every where.

You are an alchemist; make gold of that.