This wimpled, whining, purblind, wayward boy, this Senior Junior, giant dwarf...Cupid.
Your gentleness shall force More than your force move us to gentleness.
The purest treasure mortal times can afford is a spotless reputation.
The breaking of so great a thing should make A greater crack: the round world Should have shook lions into civil streets, And citizens to their dens.
Th abuse of greatness is when it disjoins remorse from power.
You have dancing shoes with nimble soles. I have a soul of lead.