Merchant Of Venice Quotes

Now is the winter of our discontent.

Hanging and wiving goes by destiny.

These blessed candles of the night.

All things that are, are with more spirit chased than enjoyed.

How many things by season seasoned are To their right praise and true perfection!

If thou wilt lend this money, lend it not As to thy friends; for when did friendship take A breed for barren metal of his friend?

Now, infidel, I have you on the hip!

Do all men kill the things they do not love?