Nature her custom holds, Let shame say what it will.

If there be no great love in the beginning, yet heaven may decrease it upon better acquaintance, when we are married and have more occasion to know one another: I hope, upon familiarity will grow more contempt.

a wild dedication of yourselves To undiscovered waters, undreamed shores.

I hate the murderer, love him murdered.

Show me a mistress that is passing fair, what doth her beauty serve but as a note where I may read who pass'd that passing fair?

Silence is the perfectest herault of joy. I were but little happy if I could say how much.

Ha. "Against my will I am sent to bid you come into dinner." There's a double meaning in that. -Benedick (Much Ado)