Ay me! sad hours seem long.

Watch tonight, pray tomorrow. Gallants, lads, boys, hearts of gold, all the titles of good fellowship come to you!

Lord, Lord, how subject we old men are to this vice of lying!

CLEOPATRA: If it be love indeed, tell me how much. ANTONY: There's beggary in the love that can be reckoned. CLEOPATRA: I'll set a bourne how far to be belov'd. ANTONY: Then must thou needs find out new heaven, new earth.

I had rather be a kitten and cry mew Than one of these same metre ballet-mongers.

To me, fair friend, you never can be old, For as you were when first your eye I ey'd, Such seems your beauty still.

Teach not thy lip such scorn, for it was made For kissing, lady, not for such contempt.