“Last scene of all that ends this strange, eventful history,is second childishness and mere oblivion.I am sans teeth, sans eyes, sans taste, sans everything.”

“My love to thee is sound, sans crack or flaw.”

“Of all the wonders that I have heard,It seems to me most strange that men should fear;Seeing death, a necessary end,Will come when it will come.(Act II, Scene 2)”

“Ah, make the most of what we yet may spend,Before we too into Dust descend;Dust into Dust, and under Dust to lie,Sans Wine, sans Song, sans Singer, and - sans End!”

“All strange and terrible events are welcome, but comforts we despise”

“let not thy sword skip one:Pity not honour'd age for his white beard;He is an usurer: strike me the counterfeit matron;It is her habit only that is honest,Herself's a bawd: let not the virgin's cheekMake soft thy trenchant sword; for those milk-paps,That through the window-bars bore at men's eyes,Are not within the leaf of pity writ,But set them down horrible traitors: spare not the babe,Whose dimpled smiles from fools exhaust their mercy;Think it a bastard, whom the oracleHath doubtfully pronounced thy throat shall cut,And mince it sans remorse: swear against objects;Put armour on thine ears and on thine eyes;Whose proof, nor yells of mothers, maids, nor babes,Nor sight of priests in holy vestments bleeding,Shall pierce a jot. There's gold to pay soldiers:Make large confusion; and, thy fury spent,Confounded be thyself! Speak not, be gone.”

“A vaincre sans péril, on triomphe sans gloire.”