Perish that thought! No, never be it said

That Fate itself could awe the soul of Richard.

Hence, babbling dreams! you threaten here in vain!

Conscience, avaunt! Richard's himself again!

Hark! the shrill trumpet sounds to horse! away!

My soul's in arms, and eager for the fray.

Colley Cibber (1671-1757): Richard III. (altered). Act v. Sc. 3.

In vain we call old notions fudge,

And bend our conscience to our dealing;

The Ten Commandments will not budge,

And stealing will continue stealing.

James Russell Lowell (1819-1891): Motto of the American Copyright League (written Nov. 20, 1885).

O coward conscience, how dost thou afflict me!

William Shakespeare (1564-1616): King Richard III. Act v. Sc. 3.

To be, or not to be: that is the question:

Whether 't is nobler in the mind to suffer

The slings and arrows of outrageous fortune,

Or to take arms against a sea of troubles,

And by opposing end them? To die: to sleep:

No more; and by a sleep to say we end

The heartache and the thousand natural shocks

That flesh is heir to,—'t is a consummation

Devoutly to be wish'd. To die, to sleep;

To sleep: perchance to dream: ay, there's the rub:

For in that sleep of death what dreams may come,

When we have shuffled off this mortal coil,

Must give us pause: there's the respect

That makes calamity of so long life;

For who would bear the whips and scorns of time,

The oppressor's wrong, the proud man's contumely,

The pangs of despised love, the law's delay,

The insolence of office and the spurns

That patient merit of the unworthy takes,

When he himself might his quietus make

To grunt and sweat under a weary life,

But that the dread of something after death,

The undiscover'd country from whose bourn

No traveller returns, puzzles the will

And makes us rather bear those ills we have

Than fly to others that we know not of?

Thus conscience does make cowards of us all;

And thus the native hue of resolution

Is sicklied o'er with the pale cast of thought,

And enterprises of great pith and moment

With this regard their currents turn awry,

And lose the name of action.

William Shakespeare (1564-1616): Hamlet. Act iii. Sc. 1.

My conscience hath a thousand several tongues,

And every tongue brings in a several tale,

And every tale condemns me for a villain.

William Shakespeare (1564-1616): King Richard III. Act v. Sc. 3.

Why should not conscience have vacation

As well as other courts o' th' nation?

Samuel Butler (1600-1680): Hudibras. Part ii. Canto ii. Line 317.

What stronger breastplate than a heart untainted!

Thrice is he armed that hath his quarrel just,

And he but naked, though locked up in steel,

Whose conscience with injustice is corrupted.

William Shakespeare (1564-1616): King Henry VI. Part II. Act iii. Sc. 2.

Her virtue and the conscience of her worth,

That would be woo'd, and not unsought be won.

John Milton (1608-1674): Paradise Lost. Book viii. Line 502.

The play's the thing

Wherein I 'll catch the conscience of the king.

William Shakespeare (1564-1616): Hamlet. Act ii. Sc. 2.

A peace above all earthly dignities,

A still and quiet conscience.

William Shakespeare (1564-1616): King Henry VIII. Act iii. Sc. 2.

Now conscience wakes despair

That slumber'd,—wakes the bitter memory

Of what he was, what is, and what must be

Worse.

John Milton (1608-1674): Paradise Lost. Book iv. Line 23.