Fair, Kind, And True, Have

Faults That Are Rich Are Fair.

Antonio: Will You Stay No Longer? Nor Will You Not That I Go With You? Sebastian: By Your Patience, No. My Stars Shine Darkly Over Me; The Malignancy Of My Fate Might, Perhaps, Distemper Yours; Therefore I Shall Crave Of You Your Leave That I May Bear My Evils Alone. It Were A Bad Recompense For Your Love To Lay Any Of Them On You.

Jesters Do Oft Prove Prophets.

Twere To Consider Too Curiously, To Consider So.

In Truth, Fair Montague, I Am Too Fond.