I Was Born Free As Caesar; So

Take Heed, Dear Heart, Of This Large Privilege; The Hardest Knife Ill-used Doth Lose His Edge.

O, My Offence Is Rank, It Smells To Heaven

Believe Then, If You Please, That I Can Do Strange Things. [act 5, Scene 2]

Her Blood Is Settled, And Her Joints Are Stiff; Life And These Lips Have Long Been Separated: Death Lies On Her Like An Untimely Frost Upon The Sweetest Flower Of All The Field.

He Was Not So Much Brain As Earwax