A good leg will fall; a straight back will stoop; a black beard will turn white; a curl'd pate will grow bald; a fair face will wither; a full eye will wax hollow: but a good heart, Kate, is the sun and the moon; or, rather, the sun, and not the moon, — for it shines bright, and never changes, but keeps his course truly.

They met so near with their lips that their breaths embraced together.

Your tale, sir, would cure deafness.

Flower of this purple dye, Hit with Cupid's archery, Sink in apple of his eye.

He doth nothing but talk of his horses.

Life's but a walking shadow, a poor player, that struts and frets his hour upon the stage, and then is heard no more; it is a tale told by an idiot, full of sound and fury, signifying nothing.

Two stars keep not their motion in one sphere.