No, I'm no enemy to learning; it hurts not me.

Right it is to be taught even by the enemy.

If there's delight in love, 'Tis when I see that heart, which others bleed for, bleed for me.

Alack, sir, no; her passions are made of nothing but the finest part of pure love. We cannot call her winds and waters sighs and tears; they are greater storms and tempests than almanacs can report: this cannot be cunning in her; if it be, she makes a shower of rain as well as Jove.

Heaven has no rage like love to hatred turned, nor hell a fury like a woman scorned.

A hungry wolf at all the herd will run, In hopes, through many, to make sure of one.