Your Tale, Sir, Would Cure Deafness.

Glendower: I Can Call The Spirits From The Vasty Deep. Hotspur: Why, So Can I, Or So Can Any Man; But Will They Come, When You Do Call For Them?

The Plants Look Up To Heaven, From Whence They Have Their Nourishment.

Love Is A Smoke Made With The Fume Of Sighs.

I Knew When Seven Justices Could Not Take Up A Quarrel, But When The Parties Were Met Themselves, One Of Them Thought But Of An If, As, 'if You Said So, Then I Said So;' And They Shook Hands And Swore Brothers. Your If Is The Only Peacemaker; Much Virtue In If.

I Have Shot Mine Arrow O'er The House And Hurt My Brother.