Greatness, once fallen out with fortune, must fall out with men too.
How easy it is for the proper-false in woman's waxen hearts to set their forms!
I will keep where there is wit stirring, and leave the faction of fools.
Things base and vile, holding no quantity, love can transpose to form and dignity
But, indeed, words are very rascals, since bonds [vows] disgraced them." Viola: "Thy reason, man?" Feste: "Troth [Truthfully], sir, I can yield you none without words, and words are grown so false, I am loathe to prove reason with them.
If I had my mouth, I would bite; if I had my liberty, I would do my liking. In the meantime, let me be that I am, and seek not toalter me.