Adversity Makes Strange Bedfellows.

If She Lives Till Doomsday, She'll Burn A Week Longer Than The Whole World.

You Are Not Worth Another Word, Else I'd Call You Knave.

Ornament Is But The Guiled Shore To A Most Dangerous Sea.

I Will Instruct My Sorrows To Be Proud; For Grief Is Proud, And Makes His Owner Stoop.

Come, Lady, Die To Live.