Free from gross passion or of mirth of anger constant spirit, not swerving with the blood, garnish'd and deck'd in modest compliment, not working with the eye without the ear, and but in purged judgement trusting neither? Such and so finely bolted didst thou seem.

Love is not love that alters when it alteration finds.

Rich gifts wax poor when givers prove unkind.

Where shall we three meet again in thunder, lightning, or in rain? When the hurlyburly 's done, when the battle 's lost and won

Rumor is a pipe Blown by surmises, jealousies, conjectures.

O, here Will I set up my everlasting rest And shake the yoke of inauspicious stars From the world-wearied flesh

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