One good deed dying tongueless Slaughters a thousand waiting upon that. Our praises are our wages.
When sorrows come, they come not single spies, but in battalions.
A woman's thought runs before her actions.
Absence doth sharpen love, presence strengthens it; the one brings fuel, the other blows it till it burns clear.
These violent delights have violent ends.
Some men there are love not a gaping pig, some that are mad if they behold a cat, and others when the bagpipe sings I the nose cannot contain their urine.