Related:

• Doct. Not so sick, my lord, As she is troubled with thick-coming fancies, That keep her from her rest.
  Macb. Cure her of that. Canst thou not minister to a mind diseas'd, Pluck from the memory a rooted sorrow, Raze out the written troubles of the brain, And with some sweet oblivious antidote Cleanse the stuff'd bosom of that perilous stuff Which weighs upon the heart?...
• Macb. If we should fail? Lady M. We fail! But screw your courage to the sticking-place, And we 'll not fail.
  -- William Shakespeare (1564-1616), Macbeth -- Act i, Sc. 7...
• Thou hast no speculation in those eyes Which thou dost glare with!
  -- William Shakespeare (1564-1616), Macbeth -- Act iii, Sc. 4...
• More matter for a May morning. -- William Shakespeare (1564-1616), Twelfth Night -- Act iii, Sc.
  4...
• A thing of custom,--'t is no other; Only it spoils the pleasure of the time.
  -- William Shakespeare (1564-1616), Macbeth -- Act iii, Sc. 4...
• Hence, horrible shadow! Unreal mockery, hence! -- William Shakespeare (1564-1616), Macbeth -- Act iii, Sc.
  4...
• I drink to the general joy o' the whole table. -- William Shakespeare (1564-1616), Macbeth -- Act iii, Sc.
  4...
• Now, good digestion wait on appetite, And health on both!
  -- William Shakespeare (1564-1616), Macbeth -- Act iii, Sc. 4...
• Stand not upon the order of your going, But go at once.
  -- William Shakespeare (1564-1616), Macbeth -- Act iii, Sc. 4...