Dissembling courtesy! How fine this tyrant can trickle when she wounds!

His words are bonds, his oaths are oracles; his love sincere, his thoughts immaculate; his tears pure messengers sent from his heart; his heart as far from fraud, as heaven from earth

I can get no remedy against this consumption of the purse: borrowing only lingers and lingers it out, but the disease is incurable.

By Heaven, my soul is purg'd from grudging hate; And with my hand I seal my true heart's love

With these shreds They vented their complainings, which being answered And a petition granted them, a strange one, To break the heart of generosity, And make bold power look pale, they threw their caps As they would hang them on the horns o' th' moon, Shouting their emulation.

Men are April when they woo, December when they wed. Maids are May when they are maids, but the sky changes when they are wives.

A horse, a horse, my kingdom for a horse!