Man, proud man, drest in a little brief authority, most ignorant of what he's most assur d, glassy essence, like an angry ape, plays such fantastic tricks before high heaven, as make the angels weep.

And why not death rather than living torment? To die is to be banish'd from myself; And Silvia is myself: banish'd from her Is self from self: a deadly banishment!

So wise so young, they say, do never live long.

He thinks too much. Such men are dangerous.

Things base and vile, holding no quantity, love can transpose to form and dignity

I will praise any man that will praise me.

Suffer love; a good epithet! I do suffer love, indeed, for I love thee against my will.