Some men never seem to grow old. Always active in thought, always ready to adopt new ideas, they are never chargeable with foggyism. Satisfied, yet ever dissatisfied, settled, yet ever unsettled, they always enjoy the best of what is, are the first to find the best of what will be.

You kiss by th' book.

Captain of our fairy band, Helena is here at hand, And the youth, mistook by me, Pleading for a lover's fee. Shall we their fond pageant see? Lord, what fools these mortals be!

My hands are of your color, but I shame to wear a heart so white.

Foolery, sir, does walk about the orb like the sun; it shines everywhere.

I have full cause of weeping, but this heart shall break into a hundred thousand flaws or ere I'll weep.

You cannot make gross sins look clear: To revenge is no valour, but to bear.