Listen to many, speak to a few.

Bring me a constant woman to her husband, One that ne'er dream'd a joy beyond his pleasure, And to that woman, when she has done most, Yet will I add an honour-a great patience.

My heart is turned to stone; I strike it, and it hurts my hand.

Love like a shadow flies when substance love pursues Pursuing that that flies, and flying what pursues.

The lowest ebb is the turn of the tide. Henry Wadsworth Longfellow We are such stuff as dreams are made of.

When rich villains have need of poor ones, poor ones may make what price they will

The man that hath no music in himself