The last taste of sweets is sweetest last.
If ever thou be'st bound in thy scarf and beaten, thou shalt find what it is to be proud of thy bondage.
What's in a name? That which we call a rose by any other name would smell as sweet.
Farewell! thou art too dear for my possessing.
Like a barber's chair that fits all buttocks.
Thou ominous and fearful owl of death.