There is a river in Macedon, and there is moreover a river in Monmouth. It is called Wye at Monmouth, but it is out of my prains what is the name of the other river; but 'tis all one, 'tis alike as my fingers is to my fingers, and there is salmons in both.

For who so firm that cannot be seduced?

That affable familiar ghost Which nightly gulls him with intelligence.

A good wit will make use of anything.

I have a kind soul that would give you thanks. And knows not how to do it but with tears.

You're in love? Out Out of love? I love someone. She doesn't love me.

Moderate lamentation is the right of the dead, excessive grief the enemy to the living.