Here is a rural fellow that will not be denied your Highness' presence: he brings you figs.

I will kill thee a hundred and fifty ways.

A happy ending cannot come in the middle of the story

Dreams are the children of idled minds.

I was not born under a rhyming planet, nor I cannot woo to in festival terms.

And where two raging fires meet together, they do consume the thing that feeds their fury.

Love, which teacheth me that thou and I am one