By Heaven, I love thee better than myself

Ay me! for aught that ever I could read, could ever hear by tale or history, the course of true love never did run smooth.

My thought, whose murder yet is but fantastical, Shakes so my single state of man That function is smothered in surmise, And nothing is but what is not.

I may chance have some odd quirks and remnants of wit broken on me, because I have railed so long against marriage: but doth not the appetite alter? a man loves the meat in his youth that he cannot endure in his age. Shall quips and sentences and these paper bullets of the brain awe a man from the career of his humour? No, the world must be peopled. When I said I would die a bachelor, I did not think I should live till I were married.

The devil shall have his bargain; for he was never yet a breaker of proverbs--he will give the devil his due.

I know a place where the wild thyme blows, where oxlips and the nodding violet grows.

As flies to wanton boys, are we to the gods; they kill us for their sport.