O, that our fathers would applause our loves, To seal our happiness with hteir consents!

When a father gives to his son, both laugh; when a son gives to his father, both cry.

As many arrows, loosed several ways, come to one mark...so many a thousand actions, once afoot, end in one purpose.

Wherefore was I to this keen mockery born? When at your hands did I deserve this scorn? Is't not enough, is't not enough, young man, That I did never, no, nor never can, Deserve a sweet look from Demetrius' eye, But you must flout my insufficiency?

To persist in doing wrong extenuates not the wrong, but makes it much more heavy.

What light through yonder window breaks?

Let me have war, say I; it exceeds peace as far as day does night; it's spritely, waking, audible, and full of vent.