Virtue is bold, and goodness never fearful.

Go to you bosom: Knock there, and ask your heart what it doth know.

Thou art an elm, my husband, I a vine.

Despair and die. The ghosts

And she's fair I love.

So shalt thou feed on Death, that feeds on men.

Love all, trust a few, Do wrong to none: be able for thine enemy Rather in power than use; and keep thy friend Under thy own life's key: be check'd for silence, But never tax'd for speech.