Think you a little din can daunt mine ears? Have I not in my time heard lions roar? Have I not heard the sea, puffed up with winds, Rage like an angry boar chafed with sweat? Have I not heard great ordinance in the field, And Heaven's artillery thunder in the skies? Have I not in a pitched battle heard Loud 'larums, neighing steeds, and trumpets' clang? And do you tell me of a woman's tongue, That gives not half so great a blow to hear As will a chestnut in a farmer's fire? Tush! tush! fear boys with bugs. Grumio: For he fears none.

Madam, you have bereft me of all words, Only my blood speaks to you in my veins.

Heaven take my soul, and England keep my bones!

The devil knew what he did when he made men politic; he crossed himself by it.

In truth, fair Montague, I am too fond.

Delay leads impotent and snail-paced beggary.

Before, I loved thee as a brother, John, But now, I do respect thee as my soul.