If after every tempest come such calms, May the winds blow till they have waken'd death!

Men's vows are women's traitors

Now see that noble and most sovereign reason, Like sweet bells jangled, out of tune and harsh.

I am but mad north-north-west. When the wind is southerly, I know a hawk from a handsaw.

Striving to better, oft we mar what’s well.

Nothing can come of nothing.

Farewell, fair cruelty.