Oh, flatter me; for love delights in praises.

Men's evil manners live in brass; their virtues we write in water.

This wimpled, whining, purblind, wayward boy, this Senior Junior, giant dwarf...Cupid.

'By heaven, that thou art fair, is most infallible true, that thou art beauteous truth itself, that thou art lovely. More fairer than fair, beautiful than beauteous, truer than truth itself, have commiseration on thy heroical vassal.

Well, whiles I am a beggar, I will rail, And say there is no sin but to be rich; And being rich, my virtue then shall be To say there is no vice but beggary

As honour, love, obedience, troops of friends, / I must not look to have; but, in their stead, / Curses, not loud but deep, mouth-honour, breath, / Which the poor heart would fain deny, and dare not" (5.3.25-28).

The teeming Autumn big with rich increase, bearing the wanton burden of the prime like widowed wombs after their lords decease.