Ready to go but never to return.

O all you host of heaven! O earth! What else? And shall I couple Hell?

But to my mind, though I am native here, And to the manner born, it is a custom, More honored in the breach than the observance.

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.

The venom clamours of a jealous woman poison more deadly than a mad dog's tooth.

Evermore thanks, the exchequer of the poor

Is it possible he should know what he is, and be that he is?