“Custom hath made it in him a property of easiness.”

“Thus conscience does make cowards of us all, / And thus the native hue of resolution / Is sicklied o’er with the pale cast of thought, / And enterprises of great pith and moment, / With this regard their currents turn awry / And lose the name of action.”

“It was about to speak, when the cock crew.”

“Thought and affliction, passion, hell itself / She turns to favour and to prettiness.”

“For this relief much thanks. ’Tis bitter cold, / And I am sick at heart.”

“Now might I do it pat, now he is praying. / And now I’ll do’t. And so he goes to heaven; / And so am I reveng’d. That would be scann’d: / A villain kills my father, and for that / I, his sole son, do this same villain send / To heaven. O, this is hire and salary, not revenge.”

“The canker galls the infants of the spring / Too oft before their buttons be disclos’d, / And in the morn and liquid dew of youth / Contagious blastments are most imminent.”

“Is she to be buried in Christian burial, when she wilfully seeks her own salvation?”

“I must be cruel, only to be kind: / Thus bad begins, and worse remains behind.”

“This bodes some strange eruption to our state.”

“Who's there?”

“In the same figure, like the King that's dead.”