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Click on the verses to see them in context. Shakespeare's plays are available from the Gutenberg Projet.

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Your skill shall, like a star in the darkest night,

 Bid him not fear the separated councils: 
An if they live, I hope I need not fear.

 Truly, the hearts of men are fun of fear: Where little fears grow great, great love grows there. Nor heaven peep through the blanket of the dark It spills itself in fearing to be spilt. In the affliction of these terrible dreams No Prior Prescription Required That such a hideous trumpet calls to parley Of dark forgetfulness and deep oblivion. The fear of that holds off my present aid. Most holy and religious fear it is Come to redeem me? there's a fearful point!