Therefore it is most expedient for the wise, if Don Worm (his conscience) find no impediment to the contrary, to be the trumpet of his own virtues, as I am to myself.

What sadness lengthens Romeo’s hours?

When truth kills truth, O devilish holy fray!

Words, vows, gifts, tears, and love's full sacrifice, He offers in another's enterprise; But more in Troilus thousand-fold I see Than in the glass of Pandar's praise may be, Yet hold I off.

This feather stirs; she lives! if it be so, it is a chance which does redeem all sorrows that ever I have felt.

O, when she's angry, she is keen and shrewd! She was a vixen when she went to school; And though she be but little, she is fierce.

Travelers must be content.