Love asks me no questions, and gives me endless support.

Death rock me asleep.

The earth, that is nature's mother, is her tomb.

A college of wit-crackers cannot flout me out of my humor. Dost thou think I care for a satire or an epigram?

I am the Prince of Wales; and think not, Percy, To share with me in glory any more: Two stars keep not their motion in one sphere.

Why, who cries out on pride that can therein tax any private party? Doth it not flow as hugely as the sea till the weary very means do ebb?

Thou art as wise as thou art beautiful