Self-love, my liege, is not so vile a sin, as self-neglecting.

Then is courtesy a turncoat. But it is certain I am loved of all ladies, only you excepted: and I would I could find in my heart that I had not a hard heart; for, truly, I love none. Beatrice: A dear happiness to women: they would else have been troubled with a pernicious suitor. I thank God and my cold blood, I am of your humour for that: I had rather hear my dog bark at a crow than a man swear he loves me. -Much Ado About Nothing

Silence is the perfectest herald of joy: I were but little happy, if I could say how much. Lady, as you are mine, I am yours: I give away myself for you and dote upon the exchange.

I have unclasp'd to thee the book even of my secret soul.

Love that well which thou must leave ere long.

The instruments of darkness tell us truths.

For I can raise no money by vile means. By heaven, I had rather coin my heart, And drop my blood for drachmas