Throw physic to the dogs; I'll none of it.

And ruin`d love when it is built anew, grows fairer than at first, more strong, far greater

I am not of that feather, to shake off my friend when he must need me

If the skin were parchment and the blows you gave were ink, Your own handwriting would tell you what I think.

Thou unfit for any place but hell.

Thyself shall see the act; For, as thou urgest justice, be assured Thou shalt have justice, more than thou desir'st.

Where souls do couch on flowers we'll hand in hand.