This is his uncle's teaching, this Worcester, Malevolent to you In all aspects, Which makes him prune himself and bristle up The crest of youth against your dignity.
The hand that hath made you fair hath made you good.
Your face is a book, where men may read strange matters.
Wine loved I deeply, dice dearly.
If music be the food of love, play on.
I dare do all that may become a man; Who dares do more, is none