I Scorn You, Scurvy Companion.

A Peace Is Of The Nature Of A Conquest; For Then Both Parties Nobly Are Subdued, And Neither Party Loser.

All That Glisters Is Not Gold; Often Have You Heard That Told.

Is This A Dagger Which I See Before Me, The Handle Toward My Hand?

Making Night Hideous.

That Man That Hath A Tongue, I Say Is No Man, If With His Tongue He Cannot Win A Woman.