Give it an understanding, but no tongue.

Prosperity's the very bond of love, Whose fresh complexion and whose heart together Affliction alters.

What is thy sentence then but speechless death.

O polished perturbation! golden care! That keep'st the ports of slumber open wide To many a watchful night.

Love is like a child, That longs for everything it can come by

My master hath been an honorable gentleman; tricks he hath had in him which gentlemen have.

Madam, you have bereft me of all words, Only my blood speaks to you in my veins.