Weed your better judgments of all opinion that grows rank in them.

Sigh no more ladies, sigh no more, men were deceivers ever

But, indeed, words are very rascals, since bonds [vows] disgraced them." Viola: "Thy reason, man?" Feste: "Troth [Truthfully], sir, I can yield you none without words, and words are grown so false, I am loathe to prove reason with them.

Things won are done, joy's soul lies in the doing.

I know no ways to mince it in love, but directly to say - I love you

I begin to find an idle and fond bondage in the oppression of aged tyranny, who sways, not as it hath power, but as it is suffered.

Glendower: I can call the spirits from the vasty deep. Hotspur: Why, so can I, or so can any man; But will they come, when you do call for them?