Related:

• It is no act of common passage, but A strain of rareness.
  -- William Shakespeare (1564-1616), Cymbeline -- Act iii, Sc. 4...
• Thou art all the comfort The gods will diet me with.
  -- William Shakespeare (1564-1616), Cymbeline -- Act iii, Sc. 4...
• The game is up. -- William Shakespeare (1564-1616), Cymbeline -- Act iii, Sc. 3
• Lest the bargain should catch cold and starve. -- William Shakespeare (1564-1616), Cymbeline -- Act i, Sc.
  4...
• Some jay of Italy, Whose mother was her painting, hath betray'd him
  Poor I am stale, a garment out of fashion. -- William Shakespeare (1564-1616), Cymbeline -- Act iii, Sc....
• An angel! or, if not, An earthly paragon! -- William Shakespeare (1564-1616), Cymbeline -- Act iii, Sc.
  6...
• Prouder than rustling in unpaid-for silk. -- William Shakespeare (1564-1616), Cymbeline -- Act iii, Sc.
  3...
• Some griefs are medicinable. -- William Shakespeare (1564-1616), Cymbeline -- Act iii, Sc. 2
• So slippery that The fear 's as bad as falling. -- William Shakespeare (1564-1616), Cymbeline -- Act iii, Sc.
  3...