How much more doth beauty beauteous seem by that sweet ornament which truth doth give!

It is the cowish terror of his spirit that dares not undertake; he'll not feel wrongs which tie him to an answer.

And this, our life, exempt from public haunt, finds tongues in trees, books in the running brooks, sermons in stones, and good in everything.

Tell me, daughter Juliet, How stands your dispositions to be married" It is an honor that I dream not of

I will kill thee a hundred and fifty ways.

Think you a little din can daunt mine ears? Have I not in my time heard lions roar? Have I not heard the sea, puffed up with winds, Rage like an angry boar chafed with sweat? Have I not heard great ordinance in the field, And Heaven's artillery thunder in the skies? Have I not in a pitched battle heard Loud 'larums, neighing steeds, and trumpets' clang? And do you tell me of a woman's tongue, That gives not half so great a blow to hear As will a chestnut in a farmer's fire? Tush! tush! fear boys with bugs. Grumio: For he fears none.

The love that follows us sometime is our trouble, which still we thank as love.