What stronger breastplate than a heart untainted! Thrice is he arm'd, that hath his quarrel just.

Violent fires soon burn out themselves, small showers last long, but sudden storms are short; he tires betimes that spurs too fast.

Hast any philosophy in thee shepherd? .• • • • . . . He that wants money, means and content, is without three good friends; that the property of rain is to wet and fire to burn; that good pasture makes fat sheep, and a great cause of the night is lack of the sun; that he that hath learned no wit by nature nor art may complain of good breeding or comes of a very dull kindred.

And all this day an unaccustomed spirit lifts me above the ground with cheerful thoughts.

O God, I could be bound in a nutshell, and count myself a king of infinite space – were it not that I have bad dreams.

And to the English court assemble now, From every region, apes of idleness!

So far be distant; and good night, sweet friend: thy love ne'er alter, till they sweet life end