Fight valiantly to-day; and yet I do thee wrong to mind thee of it, for thou art framed of the firm truth of valor.

But shall we wear these glories for a day? Or shall they last, and we rejoice in them?

This fellow is wise enough to play the fool; And to do that well craves a kind of wit: He must observe their mood on whom he jests, The quality of persons, and the time, And, like the haggard, check at every feather That comes before his eye. This is a practise As full of labour as a wise man's art For folly that he wisely shows is fit; But wise men, folly-fall'n, quite taint their wit.

This royal throne of kings, this scepter'd isle, This earth of majesty, this seat of Mars, This other Eden, demi-Paradise.

They are in the very wrath of love, and they will go together. Clubs cannot part them

Up and down, up and down I will lead them up and down I am feared in field in town Goblin, lead them up and down

Brevity is the soul of wit.