[S]ince brevity is the soul of wit, And tediousness the limbs and outward flourishes, I will be brief.

Alas, I am a woman friendless, hopeless!

The web of our life is of a mingled yarn, good and ill together.

They are in the very wrath of love, and they will go together. Clubs cannot part them

So long as men can breathe, or eyes can see, So long lives this, and this gives life to thee.

O, then, what graces in my love do dwell, that he hath turn'd a heaven unto hell

Men in rage strike those that wish them best.