Hang him, swaggering rascal!

But till all graces be in one woman, one woman shall not come in my grace. Rich she shall be, that's certain; wise, or I'll none; virtuous, or I'll never cheapen her; fair, or I'll never look on her; mild, or come not near me; noble, or not I for an angel; of good discourse, and excellent musician and her hair shall be of what colour it shall please God.

Is she kind as she is fair?

And nature must obey necessity.

We know what we are, but know not what we may be.

He uses his folly like a stalking-horse, and under the presentation of that he shoots his wit.

The violence of either grief or joy, their own enactures with themselves destroy.