Make passionate my sense of hearing.
A plague of sighing and grief! It blows a man up like a bladder.
O powerful love, that in some respects makes a beast a man, in some other, a man a beast.
[S]ince brevity is the soul of wit, And tediousness the limbs and outward flourishes, I will be brief.
She speaks poniards, and every word stabs.
As a decrepit father takes delight To see his active child do deeds of youth, So I, made lame by fortune's dearest spite, Take all my comfort of thy worth and truth.