And oftentimes, to win us to our harm, The instruments of darkness tell us truths, Win us with honest trifles, to betray's In deepest consequence

So are you to my thoughts as food to life, or as sweet seasoned showers are to the ground.

Thou call'st me dog before thou hadst a cause, But since I am a dog, beware my fangs.

Let the end try the man.

The object of Art is to give life a shape.

I love thee, I love thee with a love that shall not die. Till the sun grows cold and the stars grow old.

As merry as the day is long.