Bid me discourse, I will enchant thine ear

Thy words, I grant are bigger, for I wear not, my dagger in my mouth.

A man can die but once.

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

She told her, while she kept it, 'Twould make her amiable and subdue my father Entirely to her love, but if she lost it Or made a gift of it, my father's eye Should hold her loathed and his spirits should hunt After new fancies.

You see me here, you gods, a poor old man, As full of grief as age; wretched in both.

Words are easy, like the wind; Faithful friends are hard to find.