The bitter clamor of two eager tongues.

I have heard of your paintings too, well enough; God has given you one face, and you make yourselves another.

God mark thee to His grace! Thou was the prettiest babe that e'er I nursed. And might I live to see thee married once, I have my wish.

But most it is presumption in us when the help of heaven we count the act of men.

I hold the world but as the world, Gratiano!

Out of her favour, where I am in love.

What's brave, what's noble, let's do it after the Roman fashion.