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‘T were all one
That I should love a bright particular star
And think to wed it, he is so above me. (1.1.98)

The hind that would be mated with the lion
Must die of love. (1.1.104)

Your virginity, your old virginity,
is like one of our French withered pears;
it looks ill, it eats drily. (1.1.177)

Our remedies oft in ourselves do lie
Which we ascribe to heaven. The fated sky
Gives us free scope, only doth backward pull
Our slow designs when we ourselves are dull. (1.1.233)

My friends were poor but honest. (1.3.196)

Oft expectation fails, and most oft there
Where most it promises. (2.1.150)

It is like a barber’s chair that fits all buttocks. (2.1.19)

A young man married is a man that ’s marr’d. (2.3.317)

They say miracles are past. (2.3.1)

I know a man that had this trick of melancholy sold a goodly manor for a song. (3.2.9)

No legacy is so rich as honesty. (3.5.13)

The web of our life is of a mingled yarn, good and ill together:
our virtues would be proud if our faults whipped them not;
and our crimes would despair if they were not cherished by our own virtues. (4.3.84)

Simply the thing I am
Shall make me live. (4.3.334)

The flowery way that leads to the broad gate and the great fire. (4.5.59)

Praising what is lost
Makes the remembrance dear. (5.3.20)

The inaudible and noiseless foot of Time. (5.3.50)

The bitter past, more welcome is the sweet. (5.3.379)