Demand me nothing: what you know, you know.

If the masses can love without knowing why, they also hate without much foundation.

Have I thought long to see this morning’s face, And doth it give me such a sight as this?

More of your conversation would infect my brain.

Nothing routs us but the villainy of our fears.

A rarer spirit never Did steer humanity; but you gods will give us Some faults to make us men.

Affection, mistress of passion, sways it to the mood of what it likes or loathes.