“To mourn a mischief that is past and gone Is the next way to draw new mischief on.”

“When remedies are past, the griefs are endedBy seeing the worst, which late on hopes depended.To mourn a mischief that is past and goneIs the next way to draw new mischief on.What cannot be preserved when fortune takes,Patience her injury a mockery makes.The robb'd that smiles steals something for the thief;He robs himself that spends a bootless grief.”

“And some that smile have in their hearts, I fear, millions of mischiefs.”

“O mischief, thou art swift to enter in the hearts of desperate men!”

“Now let it work. Mischief, thou art afoot. Take thou what course thou wilt.”

“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.”

“Come, you spiritsThat tend on mortal thoughts! Unsex me here,And fill me from the crown to the toe top fullOf direst cruelty; make thick my blood,Stop up the access and passage to remorse,That no compunctious visitings of natureShake my fell purpose, nor keep peace betweenThe effect and it! Come to my woman’s breasts,And take my milk for gall, you murdering ministers,Wherever in your sightless substancesYou wait on nature’s mischief! Come, thick night,And pall thee in the dunnest smoke of hell,That my keen knife see not the wound it makes,Nor Heaven peep through the blanket of the dark,To cry "Hold, hold!”