For never was a story of more woe than this of Juliet and her Romeo.

I am asham'd that women are so simple To offer war where they should kneel for peace.

The wheel is come full circle.

I am a true laborer: I earn that I eat, get that I wear, owe no man hate, envy no man's happiness, glad of other men's good, content with my harm.

O how wretched is that poor man that hangs on princes favors! There is betwixt that smile we would aspire to, that sweet aspect of princes, and their ruin, more pangs and fears than wars or women have, and when he falls, he falls like Lucifer, never to hope again.

I will make thee think thy swan a crow.

Is twenty hundred kisses such a trouble?