What hands are here? ha! they pluck out mine eyes! Will all great Neptune’s ocean wash this blood clean from my hand? No; this my hand will rather the multitudinous seas incarnadine, making the green one red.” “My hands are of your colour; but I shame to wear a heart so white. A little water clears us of this deed: How easy it is then! Your constancy hath left you unattended.

If you prick us do we not bleed? If you tickle us do we not laugh? If you poison us do we not die? And if you wrong us shall we not revenge?

Manhood is melted into courtesies, valor into compliment, and men are only turned into tongue, and trim ones, too.

It is the very error of the moon; She comes more nearer earth than she was wont, And makes men mad.

Love is familiar. Love is a devil. There is no evil angel but Love." -

O me, you juggler, you canker-blossom, you thief of love!

A merry heart goes all the way, - A sad one tires inan hour.