Men have died from time to time, and worms have eaten them, but not for love.
He's a soldier; and for one to say a soldier lies, is stabbing.
For Brutus, as you know, was Caesar's angel: Judge, O you gods, how dearly Caesar loved him! This was the most unkindest cut of all
Glory is like a circle in the water
Come what sorrow can, It cannot countervail the exchange of joy, That one short minute gives me in her sight
Love is a smoke made with the fume of sighs.