Sir, he's a good dog, and a fair dog.

You have but mistook me all the while... I live by bread like you, taste grief, feel want, need friends. Conditioned thus how can you call me king?

Unsubstantial Death is amorous.

There lives within the very flame of love A kind of wick or snuff that will abate it.

To have seen much and to have nothing is to have rich eyes and poor hands.

Love looks not with the eyes, but with the mind, And therefore is winged Cupid painted blind.

Therefore it is most expedient for the wise, if Don Worm (his conscience) find no impediment to the contrary, to be the trumpet of his own virtues, as I am to myself.