The iron tongue of Midnight hath told twelve lovers, to bed; 'tis almost fairy time. I fear we shall outstep the coming morn as much as we this night over-watch'd.

Courage mounteth with occasion.

I dreamt my lady came and found me dead . . . . . . . . . . . . And breathed such life with kisses in my lips That I revived and was an emperor.

Every true man's apparel fits your thief.

Adversity's sweet milk, philosophy.

Romeo, Romeo, wherefore art thou Romeo?

Why, thou owest god a death.