Thou hast nor youth nor age But as it were an after dinner sleep Dreaming of both.
When words are scarce they are seldom spent in vain.
Out, you tallow-face! You baggage!
My liege, and madam, to expostulate What majesty should be, what duty is, Why day is day, night night, and time is time, Were nothing but to waste night, day and time. Therefore, since brevity is the soul of wit, And tediousness the limbs and outward flourishes, I will be brief.
Sin, that amends, is but patched with virtue.
So sweet was ne'er so fatal. I must weep. But they are creul tears. This sorrow's heavenly; it strikes where it doth love.