Headstrong liberty is lashed with woe.

We that are true lovers run into strange capers; but as all is mortal in nature, so is all nature in love mortal in folly.

He is deformed, crooked, old and sere, Ill-faced, worse bodied, shapeless everywhere; Vicious, ungentle, foolish, blunt, unkind; Stigmatical in making, worse in mind.

There is no terror, Cassius, in your threats, For I am armed so strong in honesty That they pass by me as the idle wind

Th abuse of greatness is when it disjoins remorse from power.

In scorn of nature, art gave lifeless life.

You lack the season of all natures, sleep.