Right joyous are we to behold your face, Most worthy brother England; fairly met!

Good night, good night! Parting is such sweet sorrow, that I shall say good night till it be morrow.

You are a tedious fool.

For sweetest things turn sourest by their deeds; Lillies that fester smell far worse than weeds.

Angels are bright still, though the brightest fell.

Give thy thoughts no tongue, nor any unproportioned thought his act. Be thou familiar but by no means vulgar.

A very scurvy fellow.