I see a woman may be made a fool, If she had not a spirit to resist.

Why, what's the matter, That you have such a February face, So full of frost, of storm and cloudiness?

Neither a borrower nor a lender be, for loan oft loses both itself and friend, and borrowing dulls the edge of husbandry.

But I will wear my heart upon my sleeve For daws to peck at: I am not what I am.

one pain is cured by another. catch some new infection in your eye and the poison of the old one would die.

He makes a July's day short as December.

I must be cruel, only to be kind.