Poor and content, is rich and rich enough; But riches, fineless, is as poor as winter, To him that ever fears he shall be poor.

I will instruct my sorrows to be proud; for grief is proud, and makes his owner stoop.

So fair and foul a day i had not seen.

Upon his royal face there is no note how dread an army hath enrounded him.

Get thee to a nunnery.

A contract of eternal bond of love, Confirm'd by mutual joinder of your hands, Arrested by the holy close of lips, Strength'ned by the interchangement of your rings, And all the ceremony of this compact Seal'd in my function, by my testimony.

She's gone. I am abused, and my relief must be to loathe her.