Petruchio: Come, come, you wasp; i' faith, you are too angry. Katherine: If I be waspish, best beware my sting. Petruchio: My remedy is then, to pluck it out. Katherine: Ay, if the fool could find where it lies. Petruchio: Who knows not where a wasp does wear his sting? In his tail. Katherine: In his tongue. Petruchio: Whose tongue? Katherine: Yours, if you talk of tails: and so farewell. Petruchio: What, with my tongue in your tail? Nay, come again, Good Kate; I am a gentleman.

Come not within the measure of my wrath.

Yet who would have thought the old man to have had so much blood in him? - Lady Macbeth

Love's gentle spring doth always fresh remain.

Cordelia! stay a little. Ha! What is't thou say'st? Her voice was ever soft.

Let me confess that we two must be twain, although our undivided loves are one.

A woman is a dish for the gods, if the devil dress her not.