If you prick us, do we not bleed? if you tickle us, do we not laugh? if you poison us, do we not die? and if you wrong us, shall we not revenge?
What a piece of work is a man, how noble in reason, how infinite in faculties, in form and moving how express and admirable, in action how like an angel, in apprehension, how like a god.
We all are men in our own natures frail, and capable of our flesh; few are angels.
Truly, I would not hang a dog by my will; much more a man, who hath any honesty in him.
The common curse of mankind, folly and ignorance.
One touch of nature makes the whole world kin.
Nature hath framed strange fellows in her time.
But men are men; the best sometimes forget.
