Shall I never see a bachelor of three score again?

Therefore another prologue must tell he is not a lion

How many fond fools serve mad jealousy!

Teach not thy lip such scorn, for it was made For kissing, lady, not for such contempt.

Let the doors be shut upon him, that he may play the fool no where but in's own house.

My language! heavens!I am the best of them that speak this speech. Were I but where 'tis spoken.

Nature's tears are reason's merriment.