Yet but three come one more. Two of both kinds make up four. Ere she comes curst and sad. Cupid is a knavish lad. Thus to make poor females mad.

I have very poor and unhappy brains for drinking.

Whether 'tis nobler in the mind to suffer The slings and arrows of outrageous fortune, Or to take arms against a sea of troubles, And by opposing end them?

Upon his royal face there is no note how dread an army hath enrounded him.

Let me be boiled to death with melancholy.

When we are born we cry that we are come to this great stage of fools.

A pair of star-crossed lovers.