Make not your thoughts your prisons.

Speak the speech, I pray you, as I pronounc'd it to you, trippingly on the tongue.

The weakest kind of fruit drops earliest to the ground.

The Brightness of her cheek would shame those stars as daylight doth a lamp; her eyes in heaven would through the airy region stream so bright that birds would sing, and think it were not night.

When we our betters see bearing our woes, We scarcely think our miseries our foes.

I have heard of some kind of men that put quarrels purposely on others, to taste their valor.

Pray you now, forget and forgive.