I am indeed not her fool, but her corrupter of words. (Act III, sc. I, 37-38)
Thy head is as full of quarrels as an egg is full of meat, and yet thy head hath been beaten as addle as an egg for quarrelling.
Thoughts are but dreams till their effects are tried.
All days are nights to see till I see thee, And nights bright days when dreams do show thee me.
Sigh no more ladies, sigh no more, men were deceivers ever
He receives comfort like cold porridge.