The object of Art is to give life a shape.

Be advised; Heat not a furnace for your foe so hot That it do singe yourself: we may outrun, By violent swiftness, that which we run at, And lose by over-running. Know you not, The fire that mounts the liquor til run o'er, In seeming to augment it wastes it?

To mingle friendship far is mingling bloods.

I shall the effect of this good lesson keeps as watchman to my heart.

I am not yet of Percy's mind, the Hotspur of the North; he that kills me some six or seven dozen of Scots as a breakfast, washes his hands, and says to his wife, 'Fie upon this quiet life! I want work.

Why, what's the matter, That you have such a February face, So full of frost, of storm and cloudiness?

What e'er thou art, act well thy part.