- Act 1, Scene 1: "Is love a tender thing? It is too rough,
Too rude, too boisterous, and it pricks like thorn."
- Act 1, Scene 5: "O heavy lightness, serious vanity,
Misshapen chaos of well-seeming forms,
Feather of lead, bright smoke, cold fire, sick health,
Still-waking sleep, that is not what it is!"
- Act 2, Scene 2: "Wisely and slow. They stumble that run fast."
- Act 3, Scene 2: "These violent delights have violent ends,
And in their triumph die, like fire and powder,
Which as they kiss consume."
- Act 3, Scene 3: "Parting is such sweet sorrow,
That I shall say goodnight till it be morrow."
- Act 5, Scene 3: "Poor living corse, closed in a dead man's tomb."