The web of our life is of a mingled yarn, good and ill together.

Then love-devouring Death do what he dare.

I am indeed not her fool, but her corrupter of words. (Act III, sc. I, 37-38)

Rich gifts wax poor when givers prove unkind.

'Tis better to be vile than vile esteemed

I despised my arrival on this earth and I despise my departure; it is a tragedy.

There was never yet philosopher that could endure the toothache patiently