Youth is full of sport, age's breath is short; youth is nimble, age is lame; Youth is hot and bold, age is weak and cold; Youth is wild, and age is tame.

But, indeed, words are very rascals, since bonds [vows] disgraced them." Viola: "Thy reason, man?" Feste: "Troth [Truthfully], sir, I can yield you none without words, and words are grown so false, I am loathe to prove reason with them.

Love is a smoke made with the fume of sighs.

Highly fed and lowly taught.

Methinks sometimes I have no more wit than a Christian.

Faint heart never won fair maid.

The evil that men do lives after them; the good is oft interred with their bones.