You told a lie, an odious damned lie; Upon my soul, a lie, a wicked lie.

I have lov'd her ever since I saw her; and still I see her beautiful

To be merry best becomes you; for, out of question, you were born in a merry hour.

My love is thaw'd; Which, like a waxen image 'gainst a fire, bears no impression of the thing it was

Thus have I, Wall, my part discharged so; And, being done, thus Wall away doth go.

It is not night when I do see your face, Therefore I think I am not in the night; Nor doth this wood lack worlds of company, For you in my respect are all the world: Then how can it be said I am alone, When all the world is here to look on me?

That truth should be silent I had almost forgot. (Enobarbus)