The Time Is Out Of Joint.

Sorrow, Like A Heavy Ringing Bell, Once Set On Ringing, With Its Own Weight Goes; Then Little Strength Rings Out The Doleful Knell.

I Would Fain Die A Dry Death.

Before, I Loved Thee As A Brother, John, But Now, I Do Respect Thee As My Soul.

For She Had Eyes And Chose Me.

He Hath Not Eat Paper, As It Were; He Hath Not Drunk Ink; His Intellect Is Not Replenished; He Is Only An Animal, Only Sensible In The Duller Parts. (shakespeare, Love's Labor's Lost, Iv)