Oh God! that one might read the book of fate, And see the revolution of the times Make mountains level, and the continent, Weary of solid firmness, melt itself Into the sea.

O, spirit of love, how quick and fresh art thou!

This is the short and the long of it.

All things that are, are with more spirit chased than enjoyed.

He that hath a beard is more than a youth, and he that hath no beard is less than a man. He that is more than a youth is not for me, and he that is less than a man, I am not for him.

The barge she sat in, like a burnish'd throne, Burnt on the water.

Well, I will find you twenty lascivious turtles ere one chaste man.