O no, thy love though much, is not so great, It is my love that keeps mine eye awake, Mine own true love that doth my rest defeat, To play the watchman ever for thy sake. For thee watch I, whilst thou dost wake elsewhere, From me far off, with others all too near.

I am a kind of burr; I shall stick.

Sometimes when we are labeled, when we are branded our brand becomes our calling.

Best men oft are moulded out of faults.

But what's so blessed-fair that fears no blot? Thou mayst be false, and yet I know it not.

Out, damned spot! out, I say! One: two: why, then 'tis time to do't. Hell is murky!

I am indeed, sir, a surgeon to old shoes; when they are in great danger I recover them.