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• This castle hath a pleasant seat; the air Nimbly and sweetly recommends itself Unto our gentle senses.
  -- William Shakespeare (1564-1616), Macbeth -- Act i, Sc. 6...
• 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...
• Besides, this Duncan Hath borne his faculties so meek, hath been So clear in his great office, that his virtues Will plead like angels, trumpet-tongued, against The deep damnation of his taking-off
  And pity, like a naked new-born babe, Striding the blast, or heaven's cherubim, horsed Upon the sightless couriers of the air, Shall blow the horrid deed in every eye, That tears shall drown the wind....
• The tyrant custom, most grave senators, Hath made the flinty and steel couch of war My thrice-driven bed of down.
  -- William Shakespeare (1564-1616), Othello -- Act i, Sc. 3...
• Nor time nor place Did then adhere. -- William Shakespeare (1564-1616), Macbeth -- Act i, Sc. 7
• The earth hath bubbles as the water has, And these are of them.
  -- William Shakespeare (1564-1616), Macbeth -- Act i, Sc. 3...
• Sleep shall neither night nor day Hang upon his pent-house lid.
  -- William Shakespeare (1564-1616), Macbeth -- Act i, Sc. 3...
• Nothing is But what is not. -- William Shakespeare (1564-1616), Macbeth -- Act i, Sc. 3
• I 'll charm the air to give a sound, While you perform your antic round.
  -- William Shakespeare (1564-1616), Macbeth -- Act iv, Sc. 1...