The breaking of so great a thing should make A greater crack: the round world Should have shook lions into civil streets, And citizens to their dens.

Coward dogs most spend their mouths when what they seem to threaten runs far before them.

You take my life when you do take the means whereby I live

You know who you are, but know not who you could be.

A happy ending cannot come in the middle of the story

You lie, in faith; for you are call'd plain Kate, And bonny Kate and sometimes Kate the curst; But Kate, the prettiest Kate in Christendom Kate of Kate Hall, my super-dainty Kate, For dainties are all Kates, and therefore, Kate, Take this of me, Kate of my consolation; Hearing thy mildness praised in every town, Thy virtues spoke of, and thy beauty sounded, Yet not so deeply as to thee belongs, Myself am moved to woo thee for my wife.

The weariest and most loathed worldly life, that age, ache, penury and imprisonment can lay on nature is a paradise, to what we fear of death.