Much rain wears the marble.
You're in love? Out Out of love? I love someone. She doesn't love me.
Ere I could make thee open thy white hand, and clap thyself my love; then didst thou utter, I am your's for ever!
Yield not thy neck To fortunes yoke, but let thy dauntless mind Still ride in triumph over all mischance.
I can give the loser leave to chide.
What's Hecuba to him, or he to Hecuba, That he should weep for her?