My only love sprung from my only hate.

My liege, and madam, to expostulate What majesty should be, what duty is, Why day is day, night night, and time is time, Were nothing but to waste night, day and time. Therefore, since brevity is the soul of wit, And tediousness the limbs and outward flourishes, I will be brief.

To mingle friendship far is mingling bloods.

I fill up a place, which may be better... when I have made it empty.

The iron tongue of Midnight hath told twelve lovers, to bed; 'tis almost fairy time. I fear we shall outstep the coming morn as much as we this night over-watch'd.

Oh, injurious love, that respites me a life, whose very comfort is still a dying horror

Better a little chiding than a great deal of heartbreak.