Company, villainous company, hath been the spoil of me.

Thine eyes I love, and they as pitying me, Knowing thy heart torment me with disdain, Have put on black, and loving mourners be, Looking with pretty ruth upon my pain.

Take you me for a sponge?

This passion, and the death of a dear friend, would go near to make a man look sad.

[S]ince brevity is the soul of wit, And tediousness the limbs and outward flourishes, I will be brief.

I have no way and therefore want no eyes I stumbled when I saw. Full oft 'tis seen our means secure us, and our mere defects prove our commodities.

Hasty marriage seldom proveth well.