Do all men kill the things they do not love ............ The quality of mercy is not strain'd It droppeth as the gentle rain from heaven Upon the place beneath: it is twice blest It blesseth him that gives and him that takes

When the age is in, the wit is out

Every man has his fault, and honesty is his.

Heat not a furnace for your foe so hot that it do singe yourself.

Out of my sight! Thou dost infect mine eyes.

A peevish self-willed harlotry it is. *She’s a stubborn little brat.*

Omittance is no quittance.