Too early seen unknown, and known too late!

Sick in the world's regard, wretched and low.

For they are yet ear-kissing arguments.

But, indeed, words are very rascals, since bonds [vows] disgraced them." Viola: "Thy reason, man?" Feste: "Troth [Truthfully], sir, I can yield you none without words, and words are grown so false, I am loathe to prove reason with them.

For this relief much thanks. 'Tis bitter cold, and I am sick at heart.

love is blind and lovers cannot see the pretty follies that themselves commit

O, my offence is rank, it smells to heaven