There is Throats to be cut, and Works to be done.

“No, sure, my lord, my mother cried, but then there was a star danced, and under…”

“The pow'r I have on you is to spare you / The malice towards you, to forgive yo…”

“You are a lover. Borrow Cupid's wingsand soar with them above a common bound.”

“Cry havoc and let slip the dogs of war!”