There's rosemary and rue. These keep Seeming and savor all the winter long. Grace and remembrance be to you.

I'll have no husband, if you be not he.

Of one that lov'd not wisely but too well.

Romeo, Romeo, wherefore art thou Romeo?

To gild refined gold, to paint the lily... is wasteful and ridiculous excess

'Tis better to be vile than vile esteemed, When not to be, receives reproach of being, And the just pleasure lost, which is so deemed, Not by our feeling, but by others' seeing.

Do not speak like a death's-head, do not bid me remember mine end.