In thy youth wast as true a lover, As ever sighed upon a midnight pillow

Why, i' faith, methinks she's too low for a high praise, too brown for a fair praise and too little for a great praise: only this commendation I can afford her, that were she other than she is, she were unhandsome; and being no other but as she is, I do not like her. (Benedick, from Much Ado About Nothing)

He uses his folly like a stalking-horse, and under the presentation of that he shoots his wit.

They are fairies; he that speaks to them shall die. I'll wink and couch; no man their works must eye.

Good words are better than bad strokes.

With mirth and laughter let old wrinkles come. And let my liver rather heat with wine, than my heart cool with mortifying groans.

My only love sprung from my only hate.