Mine eyes Were not in fault, for she was beautiful; Mine ears, that heard her flattery; nor my heart, That thought her like her seeming. It had been vicious To have mistrusted her.

Love does not see with the eyes, but with the soul.

I will kill thee a hundred and fifty ways.

Memory, the warder of the brain.

I have heard of some kind of men that put quarrels purposely on others, to taste their valor.

A grandma's name is little less in love than is the doting title of a mother.

For trust not him that hath once broken faith