Heaven give you many, many merry days.
The expedition of my violent love outrun the pauser, reason.
Be not afeard; the isle is full of noises.
All that glitters is not gold.
We will meet; and there we may rehearse most obscenely and courageously.
All that glisters is not gold; Often have you heard that told: Many a man his life hath sold But my outside to behold: Gilded tombs do worms enfold.