It is a wise father that knows his own child.

Come, woo me, woo me, for now I am in a holiday humor, and like enough to consent.

We must be brief when traitors brave the field.

I am misanthropos, and hate mankind, For thy part, I do wish thou wert a dog, That I might love thee something.

Lady, you are the cruel'st she alive If you will lead these graces to the grave And leave the world no copy.

'Tis brief, my lord...as woman's love.

Let me have war, say I; it exceeds peace as far as day does night; it's spritely, waking, audible, and full of vent.