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• The heaven's breath Smells wooingly here: no jutty, frieze, Buttress, nor coign of vantage, but this bird Hath made his pendent bed and procreant cradle
  Where they most breed and haunt, I have observed, The air is delicate....
• My lungs began to crow like chanticleer, That fools should be so deep-contemplative
  And I did laugh sans intermission An hour by his dial....
• Sleep shall neither night nor day Hang upon his pent-house lid.
  -- William Shakespeare (1564-1616), Macbeth -- Act i, Sc. 3...
• Confusion now hath made his masterpiece! Most sacrilegious murder hath broke ope The Lord's anointed temple, and stole thence The life o' the building!
  -- William Shakespeare (1564-1616), Macbeth -- Act ii, Sc. 3...
• He was a man, take him for all in all, I shall not look upon his like again.
  -- William Shakespeare (1564-1616), Hamlet -- Act i, Sc. 2...
• If ladies be but young and fair, They have the gift to know i
  and in his brain, Which is as dry as the remainder biscuit After a voyage, he hath strange places cramm'd With observation, the which he vents In mangled forms....
• Show his eyes, and grieve his heart; Come like shadows, so depart!
  -- William Shakespeare (1564-1616), Macbeth -- Act iv, Sc. 1...
• Honour pricks me on. Yea, but how if honour prick me off when I come on,--how then?
  Can honour set to a leg? no: or an arm? no: or take away the grief of a wound?...
• Angels and ministers of grace, defend us! Be thou a spirit of health or goblin damn'd
  Bring with thee airs from heaven or blasts from hell, Be thy intents wicked or charitable, Thou comest in such a questionable shape That I will speak to thee...