Awake, dear heart, awake. Thou hast slept well. Awake.

Thou call'st me dog before thou hadst a cause, But since I am a dog, beware my fangs.

It is as easy to count atomies as to resolve the propositions of a lover.

The peace of heaven is theirs that lift their swords, in such a just and charitable war.

Why should you think that I should woo in scorn? Scorn and derision never come in tears: Look, when I vow, I weep; and vows so born, In their nativity all truth appears. How can these things in me seem scorn to you, Bearing the badge of faith, to prove them true?

I must to the barber's, monsieur, for methinks I am marvellous hairy about the face.

What early tongue so sweet saluteth me?