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.

Why should you think that I should woo in scorn? Scorn and derision never come in tears: Look, when I vow, I weep; and vows so born, In their nativity all truth appears. How can these things in me seem scorn to you, Bearing the badge of faith, to prove them true?

This is the very coinage of your brain: this bodiless creation ecstasy.

For they are yet ear-kissing arguments.

In time we hate that which we often fear.

By Heaven, my soul is purg'd from grudging hate; And with my hand I seal my true heart's love

You have dancing shoes with nimble soles. I have a soul of lead.