Learning is but an adjunct to ourself, And where we are our learning likewise is.
Love laughs at locksmiths.
Silence is the perfectest herald of joy: I were but little happy, if I could say how much. Lady, as you are mine, I am yours: I give away myself for you and dote upon the exchange.
As good luck would have it.
Thou hast not half that power to do me harm As I have to be hurt.
The painful warrior famous for fight, After a thousand victories, once foil'd, Is from the books of honor razed quite, And all the rest forgot for which he toil'd