Like a man made after supper of a cheese-paring: when a' was naked, he was, for all the world, like a forked radish, with a head fantastically carved upon it with a knife.

Absence from those we love is self from self - a deadly banishment.

Men in rage strike those that wish them best.

Slanders, sir, for the satirical rogue says here that old men have grey beards, that their faces are wrinkled, their eyes purging think amber and plum-tree gum, and that they have a plentiful lack of wit, together with most weak hams.

Thou detestable maw, thou womb of death.

Twas never merry world Since lowly feigning was called compliment.

Is it possible that love should of a sudden take such a hold?