You blocks, you stones, you worse than senseless things!

For I have neither wit, nor words, nor worth, Action, nor utterance, nor the power of speech, To stir men's blood: I only speak right on; I tell you that which you yourselves do know.

Let the doors be shut upon him, that he may play the fool no where but in's own house.

You're in love? Out Out of love? I love someone. She doesn't love me.

The pleasing punishment that women bear.

So will I turn her virtue into pitch, And out of her own goodness make the net That shall enmesh them all.

Love is familiar. Love is a devil. There is no evil angel but Love." -