Of one that lov'd not wisely but too well.

And then he drew a dial from his poke, And looking with lack-lustre eye, Says very wisely, 'It is ten o'clock: Thus we may see', Quoth he, 'how the world wags: 'Tis but an hour ago since it was nine, And after one hour more 'twill be eleven; And so from hour to hour we ripe and ripe, And then from hour to hour we rot and rot.

Romans, countrymen, and lovers, hear me for my cause, and be silent, that you may hear.

Self-love, my liege, is not so vile a sin, as self-neglecting.

Foolery, sir, does walk about the orb like the sun; it shines everywhere.

The dullness of the fool is the whetstone of the wits.

He that is giddy thinks the world turns round.