Be not too tame neither; but let your own discretion be your tutor:
It seems it as proper to our age To cast beyond ourselves in our opinions As it is common for the younger sort To lack discretion.
’Fore God, my lord, well spoken, with good accent and good discretion.
Though yet of Hamlet our dear brother’s death The memory be green, and that it us befitted To bear our hearts in grief, and our whole kingdom To be contracted in one brow of woe; Yet so far hath discretion fought with nature That we with wisest sorrow think on him, Together with remembrance of ourselves.
Rashly, And prais’d be rashness for it,—let us know, Our indiscretion sometime serves us well, When our deep plots do fail; and that should teach us There’s a divinity that shapes our ends, Rough-hew them how we will.