So musical a discord, such sweet thunder.

There's rosemary, that's for remembrance. Pray you, love, remember.

Art thou afeard To be the same in thine own act and valour As thou art in desire? Wouldst thou have that Which thou esteem'st the ornament of life, And live a coward in thine own esteem, Letting 'I dare not' wait upon 'I would,' Like the poor cat i' the adage?

I was too young that time to value her, But now I know her. If she be a traitor, Why, so am I. We still have slept together, Rose at an instant, learned, played, eat together, And wheresoe'er we went, like Juno's swans, Still we went coupled and inseparable.

If the skin were parchment and the blows you gave were ink, Your own handwriting would tell you what I think.

Many can brook the weather that love not the wind.

This passion, and the death of a dear friend, would go near to make a man look sad.