Take heed, dear heart, of this large privilege; The hardest knife ill-used doth lose his edge.

I'll note you in my book of memory.

Set honour in one eye and death i' the other, And I will look on both indifferently.

Look like the innocent flower, But be the serpent under it.

Friendship's full of dregs.

My mistress' eyes are nothing like the sun

When he shall die, Take him and cut him out in little stars, And he will make the face of heaven so fine That all the world will be in love with night And pay no worship to the garish sun.