Hot lavender, mints, savory, marjoram; The marigold, that goes to bed wi' the sun, and with him rise weeping.

His jest will savour but of shallow wit, When thousands weep, more than did laugh at it.

Not stepping over the bounds of modesty.

Young Adam Cupid, he that shot so trim, When King Cophetua loved the beggar-maid!

Now, by the world, it is a lusty wench; I love her ten times more than e'er I did: O, how I long to have some chat with her!

All the world's a stage, and all the men and women merely players: they have their exits and their entrances; and one man in his time plays many parts, his acts being seven ages.

Men should be what they seem.