Foul whisperings are abroad

How poor are they that have not patience! What wound did ever heal but by degrees?

I will be brief. Your noble son is mad.

Things base and vile, holding no quantity, love can transpose to form and dignity

All of Creation’s a farce. Man was born as a joke. In his head his reason is buffeted Like wind-blown smoke. Life is a game. Everyone ridicules everyone else. But he who has the last laugh Laughs longest.

Heaven give you many, many merry days.

But she makes hungry Where she most satisfies.