Thrift, thrift, Horatio! The funeral bak'd meats did coldly furnish forth the marriage tables.

“Go to your bosom; Knock there, and ask your heart what it doth know. ”

“Swift as shadow, short as any dream”

“To sleep: perchance to dream: ay, there's the rub;For in that sleep of death wh…”

“What soilders whey-face?The English for so please you.Take thy face hence.”