That truth should be silent I had almost forgot. (Enobarbus)

Foul whisp'rings are abroad.

The man that hath no music in himself, Nor is not moved with concord of sweet sounds, is fit for treasons, stratagems and spoils.

How soar sweet music is, when time is broke, and no proportion kept!

Eye of newt, and toe of frog, Wool of bat, and tongue of dog, Adder's fork, and blind-worm's sting, Lizard's leg, and owlet's wing, For a charm of powerful trouble, Like a hell-broth boil and bubble.

I wish my horse had the speed of your tongue.

As in a theatre, the eyes of men, after a well-graced actor leaves the stage, are idly bent on him that enters next.