The rest, is silence.

They lie deadly that tell you have good faces.

Is love a tender thing? It is too rough, too rude, too boisterous, and it pricks like thorn.

Better a little chiding than a great deal of heartbreak.

I have heard of your paintings too, well enough; God has given you one face, and you make yourselves another: you jig, you amble, and you lisp, and nick-name God's creatures, and make your wantonness your ignorance. Go to, I'll no more on't; it hath made me mad.

Slanders, sir, for the satirical rogue says here that old men have grey beards, that their faces are wrinkled, their eyes purging think amber and plum-tree gum, and that they have a plentiful lack of wit, together with most weak hams.

Thou art a very ragged Wart.