The bitter past, more welcome is the sweet.

Away, you cut-purse rascal! you filthy bung, away! By this wine, I'll thrust my knife in your mouldy chaps, an you play the saucy cuttle with me. Away, you bottle-ale rascal! you basket-hilt stale juggler, you!

Good hay, sweet hay, hath no fellow.

Romeo, Romeo, wherefore art thou Romeo?

What's Hecuba to him, or he to Hecuba, That he should weep for her?

I am indeed, sir, a surgeon to old shoes; when they are in great danger I recover them.

The band that seems to tie their friendship together will be the very strangler of their amity.