Give thy thoughts no tongue.

...too much sadness hath congealed your blood,And melancholy is the nurse of frenzy.

As a decrepit father takes delight To see his active child do deeds of youth, So I, made lame by fortune's dearest spite, Take all my comfort of thy worth and truth.

For you and I are past our dancing days.

Too much to know is to know naught but fame.

God mark thee to His grace! Thou was the prettiest babe that e'er I nursed. And might I live to see thee married once, I have my wish.

Courage mounteth with occasion.