Truth hath a quiet breast.
The band that seems to tie their friendship together will be the very strangler of their amity.
She speaks poniards, and every word stabs.
Thy head is as full of quarrels as an egg is full of meat, and yet thy head hath been beaten as addle as an egg for quarrelling.
This tyrant, whose sole name blisters our tongues,Was once thought honest.
Our wills and fates do so contrary run.