O, beware, my lord, of jealousy; It is the green-ey'd monster, which doth mock The meat it feeds on.

These earthly godfathers of Heaven's lights, that give a name to every fixed star, have no more profit of their shining nights than those that walk and know not what they are.

Go, write it in a martial hand; be curst and brief; it is no matter how witty, so it be eloquent and fun of invention: taunt him with the licence of ink: if thou thou'st him some thrice, it shall not be amiss; and as many lies as will lie in thy shee.

There is none of my uncle's marks upon you; he taught me how to know a man in love; in which cage of rushes I am sure you are not prisoner.

When most I wink, then do my eyes best see

Good wombs have borne bad sons." -- (Miranda, I:2)

Set your heart at rest. The fairyland buys not the child of me.