And will he not come again? And will he not come again? No, no, he is dead. Go to thy deathbed. He never will come again.

My lord, they say five moons were seen to-night-- Four fixed, and the fifth did whirl about The other four in wondrous motion.

He that hath a beard is more than a youth, and he that hath no beard is less than a man. He that is more than a youth is not for me, and he that is less than a man, I am not for him.

Be merry; you have cause, so have we all, of joy; for our escape is much beyond our loss . . . . then wisely weigh our sorrow with our comfort.

He that is thy friend indeed, he will help you in your need.

I love a ballad in print o' life, for then we are sure they are true.

To gild refined gold, to paint the lily... is wasteful and ridiculous excess