Methinks Sometimes I Have No More Wit

She Is A Woman, Therefore To Be Won.

O Hell! To Choose Love With Another's Eye.

The Brain May Devise Laws For The Blood, But A Hot Temper Leaps O'er A Cold Decree.

The Ides Of March Are Come. Soothsayer: Ay, Caesar; But Not Gone.

Words Are Grown So False, I Am Loath To Prove Reason With Them.