God bless thee; and put meekness in thy breast, Love, charity, obedience, and true duty!
O, how wretched is that poor man that hangs on princes' favors.
I'll look to like; if looking, liking move.
Gloucester, we have done deeds of charity, made peace of enmity, fair love of hate, between these swelling wrong-incensed peers.
Thou art an elm, my husband, I a vine.
Every why has a wherefore.