And too soon Marred are those so early Made.

Thrift, thrift, Horatio! The funeral bak'd meats did coldly furnish forth the marriage tables.

Love is too young to know what conscience is.

Thou art a soul in bliss; but I am bound Upon a wheel of fire; that mine own tears Do scald like molten lead.

I have set my life upon a cast, And I will stand the hazard of the die.

If I had my mouth, I would bite; if I had my liberty, I would do my liking. In the meantime, let me be that I am, and seek not toalter me.

Get thee to a nunnery.