If love be blind, it best agrees with night

The weariest and most loathed worldly life, that age, ache, penury and imprisonment can lay on nature is a paradise, to what we fear of death.

Awake, awake, English nobility! Let not sloth dim your horrors new-begot.

But, indeed, words are very rascals, since bonds [vows] disgraced them." Viola: "Thy reason, man?" Feste: "Troth [Truthfully], sir, I can yield you none without words, and words are grown so false, I am loathe to prove reason with them.

Commit the oldest sins the newest kind of ways.

The stroke of death is as a lover's pinch, which hurts and is desired.

Never shame to hear what you have nobly done