Fools are as like husbands as pilchards are to herrings, the husband's the bigger.

Have I thought long to see this morning’s face, And doth it give me such a sight as this?

They that have voice of lions and act of hares,--are they not monsters?

If chance will have me king, why, chance may crown me.

Yet do I fear thy nature; It is too full o' the milk of human kindness To catch the nearest way: thou wouldst be great; Art not without ambition, but without The illness should attend it: what thou wouldst highly, That wouldst thou holily; wouldst not play false, And yet wouldst wrongly win.

But miserable most, to love unloved? This you should pity rather than despise

Love runs away from those chasing her, and those who run away, she throws herself on his neck.