Let me be boiled to death with melancholy.

Olivia: What's a drunken man like, fool? Feste: Like a drowned man, a fool, and a madman: one draught above heat makes him a fool; the second mads him; and a third drowns him.

Ask me no reason why I love you; for though Love use Reason for his physician, he admits him not for his counsellor.

Let the doors be shut upon him, that he may play the fool no where but in's own house.

A friend should bear his friend's infirmities.

Now I will believe that there are unicorns.

I may neither choose who I would, nor refuse who I dislike; so is the will of a living daughter curbed by the will of a dead father.