The labor we delight in physics [cures] pain.

Lay her i' the earth: And from her fair and unpolluted flesh May violets spring! I tell thee, churlish priest, A ministering angel shall my sister be, When thou liest howling. HAMLET. What, the fair Ophelia! QUEEN GERTRUDE. Sweets to the sweet: farewell!

The Brightness of her cheek would shame those stars as daylight doth a lamp; her eyes in heaven would through the airy region stream so bright that birds would sing, and think it were not night.

Un-thread the rude eye of rebellion, and welcome home again discarded faith.

Talking isn't doing. It is a kind of good deed to say well; and yet words are not deeds.

Ingrateful man with liquorish draughts, and morsels unctuous, greases his pure mind that from it all consideration slips.

To think but nobly of my grandmother: Good wombs have borne bad sons.