O call not me to justify the wrong, That thy unkindness lays upon my heart, Wound me not with thine eye but with thy tongue, Use power with power, and slay me not by art.

Highly fed and lowly taught.

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

And he goes through life, his mouth open, and his mind closed.

Don't waste your love on somebody, who doesn't value it.

All pity choked with custom of fell deeds.

Die for adultery! No: The wren goes to't, and the small gilded fly does lecher in my sight