I love a ballad but even too well if it be doleful matter merrily set down, or a very pleasant thing indeed and sung lamentably.

Rich gifts wax poor when givers prove unkind.

Time ... thou ceaseless lackey to eternity.

So will I turn her virtue into pitch, And out of her own goodness make the net That shall enmesh them all.

Can you nominate in order now the degrees of the lie? I will name you the degrees. The first, the Retort Courteous; the second, the Quip Modest; the third, the Reply Churlish; the fourth, the Reproof Valiant; the fifth; the Countercheck Quarrelsome; the sixth, the Lie with Circumstance; the seventh, the Lie Direct. All these you may avoid but the Lie Direct; and you may avoid that too, with an If. . . . Your If is the only peace-maker; much virtue in If.

O villains, vipers, dogs, easily won to fawn on any man!

Patience is sottish, and impatience does become a dog that's mad.