All friends shall taste The wages of their virtue, and all foes The cup of their deserving.

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That way the noise is. Tyrant, show thy face! If thou beest slain, and with no stroke of mine, My wife and children’s ghosts will haunt me still.

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There is nothing so confining as the prisons of our own perceptions.

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Graze on my lips, and if those hills be dry, Stray lower, where the pleasant fountains lie.

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All the world is a stage and we are merely players.

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As you from crimes would pardon'd be, Let your indulgence set me free.

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I would challenge you to a battle of wits, but I see you are unarmed!

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There is no terror, Cassius, in your threats; For I am arm'd so strong in honesty.

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Better three hours too soon than a minute too late.

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No legacy is so rich as honesty.

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