If thou remeber'st not the slightest folly that ever love did make thee run into, thou hast not lov'd
Have you not love enough to bear with me, when that rash humor which my mother gave me makes me forgetful.
Now join your hands, and with your hands your hearts.
The last taste of sweets is sweetest last.
The apparel oft proclaims the man.
Every why has a wherefore.