I understand thy kisses, and thou mine, And that's a feeling disputation.

Talkers are no good doers.

The empty vessel makes the loudest sound.

There is no more mercy in him than there is milk in a male tiger.

Why, then the world ’s mine oyster, Which I with sword will open.

Cupid is a knavish lad, Thus to make poor females mad.

So we grew together like to a double cherry, seeming parted, but yet an union in partition, two lovely berries molded on one stem.