My cousin's a fool, and thou art another.

Gratiano speaks an infinite deal of nothing, more than any man in all Venice. His reasons are as two grains of wheat hid in two bushels of chaff: you shall seek all day ere you find them, and when you have them, they are not worth the search.

Travelers never did lie, though fools at home condemn them.

Throw physic to the dogs; I'll none of it.

Let me tell you, Cassius, you yourself are much condemned to have an itching palm.

I love thee; none but thee, and thou deservest it

My only love sprung from my only hate! Too early seen unknown, and known too late! Prodigious birth of love it is to me, That I must love a loathed enemy.