Put money in thy purse.

Now see that noble and most sovereign reason, Like sweet bells jangled, out of tune and harsh.

Thou art sad; get thee a wife, get thee a wife!

She lov'd me for the dangers I had pass'd, And I lov'd her that she did pity them

Dead shepherd, now I find thy saw of might. Whoever lov'd that lov'd not at first sight.

Finish, good lady; the bright day is done, And we are for the Dark.

Th abuse of greatness is when it disjoins remorse from power.