They met so near with their lips that their breaths embraced together.

A little fire is quickly trodden out, Which, being suffer'd, rivers cannot quench.

I'll break my staff, bury it certain fathoms in the earth, and deeper than did ever plummet sound, I'll drown my book!

Why what a fool was I to this drunken monster for a God. - Caliban

Like a man made after supper of a cheese-paring: when a' was naked, he was, for all the world, like a forked radish, with a head fantastically carved upon it with a knife.

My glass shall not persuade me I am old, So long as youth and thou are of one date; But when in thee time's furrows I behold, Then look I death my days should expiate.

She's gone. I am abused, and my relief must be to loathe her.