What is a man, if his chief good and market of his time be but to sleep and feed? a beast, no more. Sure he that made us with such large discourse, looking before and after, gave us not that capability and god-like reason to fust in us unused.

For never was a story of more woe than this of Juliet and her Romeo.

The sweat of industry would dry and die, But for the end it works to.

Mongst all foes that a friend should be the worst.

God help the noble Claudio! if he have caught the Benedick, it will cost him a thousand pound ere a' be cured.

When a father gives to his son, both laugh; when a son gives to his father, both cry.

My soul is in the sky.