We must every one be a man of his own fancy.
If [God] send me no husband, for the which blessing I am at him upon my knees every morning and evening.
Give sorrow words; the grief that does not speak knits up the o-er wrought heart and bids it break.
The fashion of the world is to avoid cost, and you encounter it.
The robbed that smiles, steals something from the thief.
Gloucester, we have done deeds of charity, made peace of enmity, fair love of hate, between these swelling wrong-incensed peers.