All offences come from the heart.
Look, how this ring encompasseth thy finger, Even so thy breast encloseth my poor heart; Wear both of them, for both of them are thine.
Prosperity's the very bond of love, Whose fresh complexion and whose heart together Affliction alters.
Jesters do oft prove prophets.
Nor age so eat up my invention.
As I love the name of honour more than I fear death.