O that men's ears should be To counsel deaf but not to flattery!
I am asham'd that women are so simple To offer war where they should kneel for peace.
I am joined with no foot land-rakers, no long-staff, sixpenny strikers, none of these mad, mustachio purple-hued maltworms, but with nobility and tranquillity.
Love goes toward love.
We know what we are, but know not what we may be.
There was never yet philosopher that could endure the toothache patiently