Of one that lov'd not wisely but too well.
Fare thee well, king: sith thus thou wilt appear, Freedom lives hence, and banishment is here.
Methinks you are my glass, and not my brother: I see by you I am a sweet-faced youth.
The due of honor in no point omit.
He's a soldier; and for one to say a soldier lies, is stabbing.
We bring forth weeds when our quick minds lie still.