As honour, love, obedience, troops of friends, / I must not look to have; but, in their stead, / Curses, not loud but deep, mouth-honour, breath, / Which the poor heart would fain deny, and dare not" (5.3.25-28).

And when love speaks, the voice of all the gods makes Heaven drowsy with the harmony.

I am falser than vows made in wine.

Grief best is pleased with grief's society.

As many arrows, loosed several ways, come to one mark...so many a thousand actions, once afoot, end in one purpose.

This is no time to lend money, especially upon bare friendship without security.

I scorn you, scurvy companion.