Come, gentlemen, I hope we shall drink down all unkindness.

Tis not the many oaths that make the truth; But the plain single vow, that is vow'd true.

She's beautiful, and therefore to be wooed; She is a woman, therefore to be won.

Such men as he be never at heart's ease Whiles they behold a greater than themselves, And therefore are they very dangerous.

This is the third time; I hope good luck lies in odd numbers. Away; go. They say there is divinity in odd numbers, either in nativity, chance, or death.

Hamlet: Is this a prologue, or the posy of a ring? Ophelia: 'Tis brief, my lord. Hamlet: As woman's love.

Your gentleness shall force More than your force move us to gentleness.