The moon, like to a silver bow new bent in heaven.
She is a woman, therefore to be won.
Death is a fearful thing.
Greatness knows itself.
Be wise as thou art cruel, do not press My tongue-tied patience with too much disdain: Lest sorrow lend me words and words express, The manner of my pity-wanting pain.
I have very poor and unhappy brains for drinking: I could well wish courtesy would invent some other custom of entertainment.