Travelers never did lie, though fools at home condemn them.

The teeming Autumn big with rich increase, bearing the wanton burden of the prime like widowed wombs after their lords decease.

His neigh is like the bidding of a monarch, and his countenance enforces homage. He is indeed a horse.

O, spirit of love, how quick and fresh art thou!

Hamlet: Lady, shall I lie in your lap? Ophelia: No, my lord. Hamlet: DId you think I meant country matters? Ophelia: I think nothing, my lord. Hamlet: That's a fair thought to lie between maids' legs. Ophelia: What is, my lord? Hamlet: Nothing.

Though authority be a stubborn bear, yet he is oft let by the nose with gold.

There is nothing either good or bad but thinking makes it so.