World, world, O world! But that thy strange mutations make us hate thee/ Life would not yield to age.

Death, that hath suck'd the honey of thy breath hath had no power yet upon thy beauty.

There's many a man hath more hair than wit.

His jest will savour but of shallow wit, When thousands weep, more than did laugh at it.

JAQUES: Rosalind is your love's name? ORLANDO: Yes, just. JAQUES: I do not like her name. ORLANDO: There was no thought of pleasing you when she was christened.

whats here a cup closed in my true loves hand poisin i see hath been his timeless end. oh churl drunk all and left no friendly drop to help me after. i will kiss thy lips some poisin doth hang on them, to help me die with a restorative. thy lips are warm. yea noise then ill be brief oh happy dagger this is thy sheath. there rust and let me die.

Beware of entrance to a quarrel, but, being in, bear t that th' opposed may beware of thee.