Oh, thou did'st then ne'er love so heartily. If thou rememb'rest not the slightest folly That ever love did make thee run inot, Thou has not loved. Of if thou has't not sat as I do now, Wearying they hearer in thy mistress's praise, Thou has not loved. Of if thou hast not broke from company Abruptly, as my passion now makes me, Thou has not loved. (Silvius)

She speaks poniards, and every word stabs.

Misery acquaints a man with strange bedfellows.

I am a kind of burr; I shall stick.

I told you, sir, they were red-hot with drinking; so full of valor that they smote the air, for breathing in their faces, beat the ground for kissing of their feet.

Tomorrow, and tomorrow, and tomorrow,Creeps in this petty pace from day to day

Ideas are the very coinage of your brain.