All love's pleasure shall not match its woe.

O the world is but a word; were it all yours to give it in a breath, how quickly were it gone!

We will have rings and things and fine array

If I were a woman I would kiss as many of you as had beards that pleased me, complexions that liked me and breaths that I defied not

Trust not my reading, nor my observations, Which with experimental seal do warrant The tenor of my book.

A sad tale's best for winter. I have one of sprites and goblins.

What stronger breastplate than a heart untainted! Thrice is he arm'd, that hath his quarrel just.