I thought my heart had been wounded with the claws of a lion.

Go hang yourself, you naughty mocking uncle!

For I am he am born to tame you, Kate; and bring you from a wild Kate to a Kate conformable as other household Kates.

If you can look into the seeds of time, and say which grain will grow and which will not, speak then unto me.

Be not afeard; the isle is full of noises, Sounds, and sweet airs, that give delight and hurt not. Sometimes a thousand twangling instruments Will hum about mine ears; and sometime voices, That, if I then had waked after long sleep, Will make me sleep again: and then, in dreaming, The clouds methought would open, and show riches Ready to drop upon me; that, when I waked, I cried to dream again.

A good heart 'is worth gold.

Give me my robe, put on my crown; I have Immortal longings in me.