Women being the weaker vessels, are ever thrust to the walls.

I, measuring his affections by my own, Which then most sought where most might not be found, Being one too many by my weary self, Pursued my humor not pursuing his, And gladly shunned who gladly fled from me.

Though she be but little, she is fierce!

O hell! to choose love with another's eye.

The rarer action is in virtue than in vengeance.

There is a time in the affairs of men, Which, taken at the flood, leads on to fortune.

There is no slander in an allowed fool, though he do nothing but rail.