The horn, the horn, the lusty horn Is not a thing to laugh to scorn.

Nothing comes from doing nothing.

The villany you teach me I shall execute; and it shall go hard but I will better the instruction.

Because it is a customary cross, As die to love as thoughts, and dreams, and sighs, Wishes, and tears, poor fancy's followers.

The man that hath no music in himself

I do beseech you- Though I perchance am vicious in my guess , that your wisdom yet From one that so imperfectly conjects Would take no notice, nor build yourself a trouble Out of his scattering and unsure observance.

Four days will quickly steep themselves in nights; Four nights will quickly dream away the time; And then the moon, like to a silver bow new bent in heaven, shall behold the night of our solemnities.