Every offense is not a hate at first.

O me, you juggler, you canker-blossom, you thief of love!

I dare do all that may become a man; Who dares do more, is none

Good night, good night! Parting is such sweet sorrow, that I shall say good night till it be morrow.

I have no way and therefore want no eyes I stumbled when I saw. Full oft 'tis seen our means secure us, and our mere defects prove our commodities.

I see you stand like greyhounds in the slips, Straining upon the start. The game's afoot; Follow your spirit: and upon this charge, Cry — God for Harry! England and Saint George!

One touch of nature makes the whole world kin.