You cannot call it love, for at your age the heyday in the blood is tame
It is a sin to be a mocker.
I find my zenith doth depend upon A most auspicious star, whose influence If now I court not, but omit, my fortunes Will ever after droop.
Strikes deeper, grows with more pernicious root.
I have had a most rare vision. I have had a dream, past the wit of man to say what dream it was.
There's neither honesty, manhood, nor good fellowship in thee.