Two Women Placed Together Makes Cold Weather.

What Is Past Is Prologue.

Now Let It Work. Mischief, Thou Art Afoot. Take Thou What Course Thou Wilt.

Hang Him, Swaggering Rascal!

O Fortune, Fortune! All Men Call Thee Fickle.

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)