Who steals my purse steals trash
[Life’s] a tale / Told by an idiot, full of sound and fury, / Signifying nothing
The better part of valor is discretion
(Exit, pursued by a bear)
A horse! a horse! my kingdom for a horse!
p. 41 We few, we happy few, we band of brothers
Double, double, toil and trouble; / Fire burn and cauldron bubble
By the pricking of my thumbs, / Something wicked this way comes
The quality of mercy is not strained, / It droppeth as the gentle rain from heaven
O brave new world, / That has such people in’t!
Oh, and lest I forget,
To be, or not to be, that is the question.