“The course of true love never did run smooth.

Love all, trust a few, do wrong to none

Love is a smoke made with the fume of sighs

With mirth and laughter let old wrinkles come

To me, fair friend, you never can be old, for as you were when first your eye I eyed, such seems your beauty still.

God, the best maker of all marriages, combine your hearts in one, your realms in one

My love as deep; the more I give to thee, the more I have, both are infinite.

Now join your hands, and with your hands your hearts

Poor and content is rich, and rich enough.

My pride fell with my fortunes

A man can die but once.

Having nothing, nothing can he lose.

They do not love that do not show their love

Love all, trust a few, do wrong to none

I wasted time, and now doth time waste me

Men of few words are the best men

Give every man thy ear, but few thy voice