O, it is excellent To have a giant's strength; but it is tyrannous To use it like a giant.

Love runs away from those chasing her, and those who run away, she throws herself on his neck.

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

How poor are they that have not patience! What wound did ever heal but by degrees?

This cold night will turn us all to fools and madmen.

Beggar that I am, I am even poor in thanks

The horn, the horn, the lusty horn Is not a thing to laugh to scorn.