Ere yet the salt of most unrighteous tears Had left the flushing of her gallèd eyes, She married. O, most wicked speed, to post With such dexterity to incestuous sheets!
Of all the flowers, me thinks a rose is best.
The appurtenance of welcome is fashion and ceremony.
Lawless are they that make their wills their law.
A man in all the world's new fashion planted, That hath a mint of phrases in his brain.
I am the Prince of Wales; and think not, Percy, To share with me in glory any more: Two stars keep not their motion in one sphere.