He that is proud eats up himself: pride is his own glass, his own trumpet, his own chronicle.

The apprehension of the good Gives but the greater feeling to the worse.

Good wombs have borne bad sons." -- (Miranda, I:2)

Take all the swift advantage of the hours.

A knavish speech sleeps in a fool's ear.

O God, that men should put an enemy in their mouths to steal away their brains!" - Cassio (Act II, Scene iii)

whats here a cup closed in my true loves hand poisin i see hath been his timeless end. oh churl drunk all and left no friendly drop to help me after. i will kiss thy lips some poisin doth hang on them, to help me die with a restorative. thy lips are warm. yea noise then ill be brief oh happy dagger this is thy sheath. there rust and let me die.