Friendship Is Full Of Dregs.

I Loved Ophelia. Forty Thousand Brothers Could Not, With All Their Quantity Of Love, Make Up My Sum.

My Love Is Strengthen'd, Though More Weak In Seeming; I Love Not Less, Though Less The Show Appear: That Love Is Merchandised Whose Rich Esteeming The Owner's Tongue Doth Publish Every Where.

By Heaven, I'll Make A Ghost Of Him That Lets Me.

Thy Food Is Such As Hath Been Belch'd On By Infected Lungs.

Love Is Not Love That Alters When It Alteration Finds.