Virtue that transgresses is but patched with sin; and sin that amends is but patched with virtue.
Let's meet as little as we can
Make the doors upon a woman's wit, and it will out at the casement; shut that, and 'twill out at the key-hole; stop that, 'twill fly with the smoke out at the chimney.
Go, bid the soldiers shoot.
To show an unfelt sorrow is an office Which the false man does easy.
My conscience hath a thousand several tongues, And every tongue brings in a several tale, And every tale condemns me for a villain. Perjury, perjury, in the high'st degree; Murder, stern murder in the dir'st degree, Throng to the bar, crying all, 'Guilty!, guilty!