You Jig, You Amble, And You Lisp.

They Are Fairies; He That Speaks To Them Shall Die. I'll Wink And Couch; No Man Their Works Must Eye.

To Set A Gloss On Faint Deeds, Hollow Welcomes, Recanting Goodness, Sorry Ere 'tis Shown; But Where There Is True Friendship, There Needs None.

Keep Up Your Bright Swords, For The Dew Will Rust Them.

Life's But A Walking Shadow, A Poor Player, That Struts And Frets His Hour Upon The Stage, And Then Is Heard No More; It Is A Tale Told By An Idiot, Full Of Sound And Fury, Signifying Nothing.

Bassanio: Do All Men Kill All The Things They Do Not Love? Shylock: Hates Any Man The Thing He Would Not Kill? Bassanio: Every Offence Is Not A Hate At First.