All torment, trouble, wonder, and amazement Inhabits here. Some heavenly power guide us Out of this fearful country!
In the beaten way of friendship, what make you at Elsinore?
There stands the castle, by yon tuft of trees.
An honest soul, i'faith, sir, by my troth he is, as ever broke bread. But God is to be worshipped; all men are not alike.
Nay, had she been true, If heaven would make me such another world Of one entire and perfect chrysolite, I'd not have sold her for it.
I fear you speak upon the rack, Where men enforced do speak anything.
He that shall see this day and live old age Will yearly on the vigil feast his neighbors And say, "Tomorrow is Saint Crispian."
An admirable musician! O, she will sing the savageness out of a bear!
It will be proved to thy face that thou hast men about thee that usually talk of a noun and a verb and such abominable words as no Christian ear can endure to hear.
Villain, thou know'st nor law of God nor man; No beast so fierce but knows some touch of pity.