And simple truth miscalled simplicity

And nature must obey necessity.

I will live in thy heart, die in thy lap, and be buried in thy eyes—and moreover, I will go with thee to thy uncle’s.

Vile worm, thou wast o'erlook'd even in thy birth.

All that glisters is not gold; Often have you heard that told.

I count myself in nothing else so happy as in a soul remembering my good Friends

There is some soul of goodness in things evil, Would men observingly distill it out.