Nothing Routs Us But The Villainy Of

Henceforth, I'll Bear Affliction Till It Do Cry Out Itself, 'enough, Enough, And Die.

The Play's The Thing, Wherein I'll Catch The Conscience Of The King.

There Is Throats To Be Cut, And Works To Be Done.

Bear With My Weakness. My Old Brain Is Troubled. Be Not Disturbed With My Infirmity.

What's Hecuba To Him, Or He To Hecuba, That He Should Weep For Her?