Men have died from time to time, and worms have eaten them, but not for love.
Get thee to a nunnery.
How much better is it to weep at joy than to joy at weeping?
Help, master, help! here's a fish hangs in the net, like a poor man's right in the law; 'twill hardly come out.
I am indeed not her fool, but her corrupter of words. (Act III, sc. I, 37-38)
Remuneration! O! That's the Latin word for three farthings