The sweetest honey Is loathsome in his own deliciousness, And in the taste confounds the appetite: Therefore love moderately— long love doth so.

Let the end try the man.

Their savage eyes turned to a modest gaze by the sweet power of music.

I wasted time, and now doth time waste me.

Infirm of purpose! Give me the daggers: the sleeping and the dead are but as pictures: ‘tis the eye of childhood that fears a painted devil

Good company, good wine, good welcome, can make good people.

Do you set down your name in the scroll of youth, that are written down old with all the characters of age?