Tis in my memory lock'd, And you yourself shall keep the key of it.

one pain is cured by another. catch some new infection in your eye and the poison of the old one would die.

O sir, you are old; nature in you stands on the very verge of her confine; you should be ruled and led by some discretion, that discerns your fate better than you yourself.

On the bat’s back I do fly After summer merrily.

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

Lovers can do their amorous rites by their own beauties

Death-counterfeiting sleep.