This we prescribe, though no physician; Deep malice makes too deep incision; Forget, forgive; conclude and be agreed; Our doctors say this is no month to bleed.

We bring forth weeds when our quick minds lie still.

That which hath made them drunk hath made me bold; What hath quenched them hath given me fire.

I have supped full with horrors.

Till our King Henry had shook hands with Death.

Hereafter, in a better world than this, I shall desire more love and knowledge of you

I'll take thy word for faith, not ask thine oath; Who shuns not to break one will sure crack both.