The most peerless piece of earth, I think, that e' er the sun shone bright on.
O, that our fathers would applause our loves, To seal our happiness with hteir consents!
Tis a blushing shame-faced spirit that mutinies in a man's bosom. It fills a man full of obstacles. It made me once restore a purse of gold that (by chance) I found. It beggars any man that keeps it.
Some grief shows much of love, But much of grief shows still some want of wit.
Assume a virtue if you have it not.
In thy foul throat thou liest.