He hath not eat paper, as it were; he hath not drunk ink; his intellect is not replenished; he is only an animal, only sensible in the duller parts. (Shakespeare, Love's Labor's Lost, IV)

Headstrong liberty is lashed with woe.

Don't waste your love on somebody, who doesn't value it.

Praising what is lost makes the remembrance dear

Gloucester, we have done deeds of charity, made peace of enmity, fair love of hate, between these swelling wrong-incensed peers.

Love goes toward love.

If [God] send me no husband, for the which blessing I am at him upon my knees every morning and evening.