Ay, but hearken, sir; though the chameleon Love can feed on the air, I am one that am nourished by my victuals, and would fain have meat.

An habitation giddy and unsure Hath he that buildeth on the vulgar heart.

Love is a smoke made with the fume of sighs.

And when I am forgotten, as I shall be, And asleep in dull cold marble, where no mention Of me must be heard of, say, I taught thee.

Let us kill all lawyers

Temptation: the fiend at my elbow.

His life was gentle; and the elements So mixed in him, that Nature might stand up And say to all the world, THIS WAS A MAN!