O Shame, Where Is Thy Blush?

He That Plays The King Shall Be Welcome- His Majesty Shall Have Tribute Of Me; The Adventurous Knight Shall Use His Foil And Target; The Lover Shall Not Sigh Gratis; The Humorous Man Shall End His Part In Peace; The Clown Shall Make Those Laugh Whose Lungs Are Tickle O' Th' Sere; And The Lady Shall Say Her Mind Freely, Or The Blank Verse Shall Halt Fort.

My Love Is As A Fever, Longing Still For That Which Longer Nurseth The Disease, Feeding On That Which Doth Preserve The Ill, Th' Uncertain Sickly Appetite To Please. My Reason, The Physician To My Love, Angry That His Prescriptions Are Not Kept, Hath Left Me, And I Desperate Now Approve Desire Is Death, Which Physic Did Except.

O, The Blood More Stirs To Rouse A Lion Than To Start A Hare!

For My Grief's So Great That No Supporter But The Huge Firm Earth Can Hold It Up: Here I And Sorrows Sit; Here Is My Throne, Bid Kings Come Bow To It. (constance, From King John, Act Iii, Scene 1)

Thy Words, I Grant Are Bigger, For I Wear Not, My Dagger In My Mouth.