True hope is swift, and flies with swallow's wings.

And therefore, — since I cannot prove a lover, To entertain these fair well-spoken days, — I am determined to prove a villain, And hate the idle pleasures of these days.

Thou seest I have more flesh than another man, and therefore more frailty.

Are you up to your destiny?

For by his face straight shall you know his heart.

I love a ballad but even too well if it be doleful matter merrily set down, or a very pleasant thing indeed and sung lamentably.

My wits begin to turn.