And by that destiny to perform an act Whereof what's past is prologue, what to come In yours and my discharge.

The sight of lovers feedeth those in love.

It's easy for someone to joke about scars if they've never been cut.

In the modesty of fearful duty, I read as much as from the rattling tongue of saucy and audacious eloquence.

Bring me a constant woman to her husband, One that ne'er dream'd a joy beyond his pleasure, And to that woman, when she has done most, Yet will I add an honour-a great patience.

This rough magic I here abjure and when I have required some heavenly music, which even now I do, to work mine end upon their senses that this airy charm is for, I'll break my staff, bury it certain fathoms in the earth, and deeper than did ever plummet sound, I'll drown my book.

O thou invisible spirit of wine, if thou hast no name to be known by, let us call thee devil.