There is a river in Macedon, and there is moreover a river in Monmouth. It is called Wye at Monmouth, but it is out of my prains what is the name of the other river; but 'tis all one, 'tis alike as my fingers is to my fingers, and there is salmons in both.
Love is a spirit all compact of fire.
Suspicion shall be all stuck full of eyes.
Pray you now, forget and forgive.
If she lives till doomsday, she'll burn a week longer than the whole world.
Can I go forward when my heart is here? Turn back, dull earth, and find thy centre out.