So quick bright things come to confusion.​​​​​​

What stronger breastplate than a heart untainted! Thrice is he arm'd, that hath his quarrel just.

Let still woman take An elder than herself: so wears she to him, So sways she level in her husband's heart, For, boy, however we do praise ourselves, Our fancies are more giddy and unfirm, More longing, wavering, sooner to be lost and warn, Than women's are.

For what good turn? Messenger: For the best turn of the bed.

O that my tongue were in the thunder's mouth! Then with passion would I shake the world.

Come the three corners of the world in arms, and we shall shock them.

Antonio: Will you stay no longer? nor will you not that I go with you? Sebastian: By your patience, no. My stars shine darkly over me; the malignancy of my fate might, perhaps, distemper yours; therefore I shall crave of you your leave that I may bear my evils alone. It were a bad recompense for your love to lay any of them on you.