Oh, injurious love, that respites me a life, whose very comfort is still a dying horror

O Judgment ! Thou art fled to brutish beasts, and men have lost their reason !

Is there no respect of place, persons, nor time in you?

Think you a little din can daunt mine ears? Have I not in my time heard lions roar? Have I not heard the sea, puffed up with winds, Rage like an angry boar chafed with sweat? Have I not heard great ordinance in the field, And Heaven's artillery thunder in the skies? Have I not in a pitched battle heard Loud 'larums, neighing steeds, and trumpets' clang? And do you tell me of a woman's tongue, That gives not half so great a blow to hear As will a chestnut in a farmer's fire? Tush! tush! fear boys with bugs. Grumio: For he fears none.

I thank God I am not a woman, to be touched in so many giddy offences as He hath generally taxed their whole their whole sex withal.

It's easy for someone to joke about scars if they've never been cut.

Thou weigh'st thy words before thou givest them breath.