Ornament is but the guiled shore to a most dangerous sea.

I told you, sir, they were red-hot with drinking; so full of valor that they smote the air, for breathing in their faces, beat the ground for kissing of their feet.

Speak the speech, I pray you, as I pronounc'd it to you, trippingly on the tongue.

Is this the generation of love? Hot blood, hot thoughts and hot deeds? Why, they are vipers. Is love a generation of vipers?

There's neither honesty, manhood, nor good fellowship in thee.

But I will wear my heart upon my sleeve For daws to peck at: I am not what I am.

woah is me to have seen what i seen see what i see