Give me that man that is not passion's slave, and I will wear him in my heart's core, in my heart of heart, as I do thee.

I hate ingratitude more in a man than lying, vainness, babbling, drunkenness, or any taint of vice whose strong corruption inhabits our frail blood".

Self-love, my liege, is not so vile a sin, as self-neglecting.

His words are bonds, his oaths are oracles; his love sincere, his thoughts immaculate; his tears pure messengers sent from his heart; his heart as far from fraud, as heaven from earth

Ay, but to die, and go we know not where.

true apothecary thy drugs art quick

He does it with better grace, but I do it more natural.