How is it that the clouds still hang on you?

Mine honour is my life; both grow in one; Take honour from me, and my life is done.

so full of shapes is fancy

ROMEO to BALTHASAR But if thou, jealous, dost return to pry In what I further shall intend to do, By heaven, I will tear thee joint by joint And strew this hungry churchyard with thy limbs: The time and my intents are savage-wild, More fierce and more inexorable far Than empty tigers or the roaring sea.

Love is too young to know what conscience is.

Rich gifts wax poor when givers prove unkind.

I pardon him, as God shall pardon me.