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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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What, do I fear myself? there's none else by:

 Hang those that talk of fear.--Give me mine armour.-- By their oppress'd and fear-surprised eyes, O blessed, blessed night! I am afeard, Go prick thy face and over-red thy fear, Most holy and religious fear it is Meet us - we want to get together as soon as possible.  So fearful were they of infection. Why, what should be the fear? He fears, my lord, you mean no good to him. and afeard? What need we fear who knows it, when none can call Fear me not. I have almost forgot the taste of fears: It spills itself in fearing to be spilt. Cold fearful drops stand on my trembling flesh. What fear is this which startles in our ears?