Related:

• I have not slept one wink. -- William Shakespeare (1564-1616), Cymbeline -- Act iii, Sc. 4
• 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...
• 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....
• The game is up. -- William Shakespeare (1564-1616), Cymbeline -- Act iii, Sc. 3
• Ham. The air bites shrewdly; it is very cold. Hor. It is a nipping and an eager air.
  -- William Shakespeare (1564-1616), Hamlet -- Act i, Sc. 4...
• They are as sick that surfeit with too much, as they that starve with nothing.
  -- William Shakespeare (1564-1616), The Merchant of Venice -- Act i, Sc. 2...
• Poor Tom 's a-cold. -- William Shakespeare (1564-1616), King Lear -- Act iii, Sc. 4
• That it should come to this! -- William Shakespeare (1564-1616), Hamlet -- Act i, Sc. 2