If it will feed nothing else, it will feed my revenge.
Trifles light as air are to the jealous confirmations strong as proofs of holy writ.
How many a holy and obsequious tear hath dear religious love stolen from mine eye, as interest of the dead!
Love hath made thee a tame snake
Melancholy is the nurse of frenzy.
O! for a muse of fire, that would ascend the brightest heaven of invention.