“Why, the wrong is but a wrong i'th'world; and having the world for your labour, 'tis a wrong in your own world, and you might quickly make it a right.”

“But yesterday the word of Caesar mightHave stood against the world; now lies he there.And none so poor to do him reverence.O masters, if I were disposed to stirYour hearts and minds to mutiny and rage,I should do Brutus wrong, and Cassius wrong,Who, you all know, are honourable men:I will not do them wrong; I rather chooseTo wrong the dead, to wrong myself and you,Than I will wrong such honourable men.But here's a parchment with the seal of Caesar;I found it in his closet, 'tis his will:Let but the commons hear this testament--Which, pardon me, I do not mean to read--And they would go and kiss dead Caesar's woundsAnd dip their napkins in his sacred blood,Yea, beg a hair of him for memory,And, dying, mention it within their wills,Bequeathing it as a rich legacyUnto their issue.”

“Wrong hath but wrong, and blame the due of blame.”

“Who seeks for better of thee, sauce his palateWith thy most operant poison! What is here?Gold? yellow, glittering, precious gold? No, gods,I am no idle votarist: roots, you clear heavens!Thus much of this will make black white, foul fair,Wrong right, base noble, old young, coward valiant.Ha, you gods! why this? what this, you gods? Why, thisWill lug your priests and servants from your sides,Pluck stout men's pillows from below their heads:This yellow slaveWill knit and break religions, bless the accursed,Make the hoar leprosy adored, place thievesAnd give them title, knee and approbationWith senators on the bench: this is itThat makes the wappen'd widow wed again;”

“O my good lord, the world is but a word: Were it all yours to give it in a breath, How quickly were it gone!”

“Ay, in the temple, in the town, the field, You do me mischief. Fie, Demetrius! Your wrongs do set a scandal on my sex: We cannot fight for love, as men ay do; We should be woo'd, and were not made to woo. I'll follow thee, and make a heaven of hell, To die upon the hand I love so well.”

“Force should be right; or rather, right and wrong,between whose endless jar justice resides,should lose their names, and so should justice too.Then everything includes itself in power,power into will, will into appetite;and appetite, an universal wolf,so doubly seconded with will and power, must make perforce an universal preyand at last eat up himself.”