My stronger guilt defeats my strong intent.

Thou ominous and fearful owl of death.

O God of battles! steel my soldiers’ hearts. Possess them not with fear.

Give to a gracious message An host of tongues, but let ill tidings tell Themselves when they be felt.

Petruchio: Come, come, you wasp; i' faith, you are too angry. Katherine: If I be waspish, best beware my sting. Petruchio: My remedy is then, to pluck it out. Katherine: Ay, if the fool could find where it lies. Petruchio: Who knows not where a wasp does wear his sting? In his tail. Katherine: In his tongue. Petruchio: Whose tongue? Katherine: Yours, if you talk of tails: and so farewell. Petruchio: What, with my tongue in your tail? Nay, come again, Good Kate; I am a gentleman.

Nothing comes amiss, so money comes withal.

We cannot all be masters.