His jest will savour but of shallow wit, When thousands weep, more than did laugh at it.

Thou art sad; get thee a wife, get thee a wife!

O, what men dare do! what men may do! what men daily do, not knowing what they do.

Now see that noble and most sovereign reason, Like sweet bells jangled, out of tune and harsh.

O, but they say, the tongues of dying men enforce attention, like deep harmony: where words are scarce, they are seldom spent in vain: for they breathe truth, that breathe their words in pain. he, that no more must say, is listened more than they whom youth and ease have taught to gloze; more are men's ends marked, than their lives before: the setting sun, and music at the close, as the last taste of sweets, is sweetest last; writ in rememberance more than things long past

Ha. "Against my will I am sent to bid you come into dinner." There's a double meaning in that. -Benedick (Much Ado)

Until I know this sure uncertainty, I'll entertain the offered fallacy.