Do you bite your thumb at us, sir?
Many that are not mad have, sure, more lack of reason.
O, spirit of love, how quick and fresh art thou!
Let the doors be shut upon him, that he may play the fool no where but in's own house.
For this relief much thanks. 'Tis bitter cold, and I am sick at heart.
Hot blood begets hot thoughts, And hot thoughts beget Hot deeds, And hot deeds is love.