You shall more command with years than with your weapons.

Twas never merry world Since lowly feigning was called compliment.

The iron tongue of Midnight hath told twelve lovers, to bed; 'tis almost fairy time. I fear we shall outstep the coming morn as much as we this night over-watch'd.

Macbeth to Witches: What are these So wither'd and so wild in their attire, That look not like th' inhabitants o' th' earth, And yet are on 't?

I have heard of some kind of men that put quarrels purposely on others, to taste their valor.

Society is no comfort, to one not sociable.

I will speak daggers to her, but use none.