These Violent Delights Have Violent Ends.

Happy Are They That Hear Their Detractions, And Can Put Them To Mending.

My Thoughts Are Whirled Like A Potter's Wheel; I Know Not Where I Am Nor What I Do.

O Hell! To Choose Love With Another's Eye.

Thou Art Most Rich, Being Poor; Most Choice, Forsaken; And Most Lov'd, Despis'd! Thee And Thy Virtues Here I Seize Upon.

Leonato Well, Niece, I Hope To See You One Day Fitted With A Husband. Beatrice Not Till God Make Men Of Some Other Metal Than Earth. Would It Not Grieve A Woman To Be Overmastered With A Pierce Of Valiant Dust? To Make An Account Of Her Life To A Clod Of Wayward Marl? No, Uncle, I'll None: Adam's Sons Are My Brethren; And, Truly, I Hold It A Sin To Match In My Kindred.