O, speak again, bright angel! for thou art As glorious to this night, being o'er my head As is a winged messenger of heaven

Be great in act, as you have been in thought.

It is the bright day that brings forth the adder, and that craves wary walking.

Sweet Beatrice, wouldst thou come when I called thee? BEATRICE Yea, signior, and depart when you bid me. BENEDICK O, stay but till then! BEATRICE 'Then' is spoken; fare you well now... (Much Ado About Nothing)

Men are April when they woo, December when they wed.

You are an alchemist; make gold of that.

Then is it sin to rush into the secret house of death. Ere death dare come to us?