Love is not love that alters when it alteration finds.

Is this the generation of love? Hot blood, hot thoughts and hot deeds? Why, they are vipers. Is love a generation of vipers?

Then love-devouring Death do what he dare.

Like a man made after supper of a cheese-paring: when a' was naked, he was, for all the world, like a forked radish, with a head fantastically carved upon it with a knife.

Most subject is the fattest soil to weeds.

I am asham'd that women are so simple To offer war where they should kneel for peace.

Hot and hasty, like a Scotch jig.