My father charged you in his will to give me good education: you have trained me like a peasant, obscuring and hiding from me all gentlemanlike qualities. The spirit of my father grows strong in me, and I will no longer endure it.
I hope I shall see an end of him; for my soul, yet I know not why, hates nothing more than he. Yet he’s gentle, never schooled and yet learned, full of noble device, of all sorts enchantingly beloved.
The more pity that fools may not speak wisely what wise men do foolishly.
What passion hangs these weights upon my tongue? I cannot speak to her, yet she urged conference.
Come, come, wrestle with thy affections.
Let’s away and get our jewels and our wealth together, devise the fittest time and safest way to hide us from pursuit that will be made after my flight. Now we go in content to liberty, and not to banishment.
Are not these woods more free from peril than the envious court? Here feel we not the penalty of Adam.
Poor old man, thou prun’st a rotten tree that cannot so much as a blossom yield in lieu of all thy pains and husbandry. But come thy ways, we’ll go along together.
O, thou didst then never love so heartily! If thou rememb’rest not the slightest folly that ever love did make thee run into, thou hast not loved.
We that are true lovers run into strange capers; but as all is mortal in nature, so is all nature in love mortal in folly.
I can suck melancholy out of a song as a weasel sucks eggs.
When I did hear the motley fool thus moral on the time, my lungs began to crow like chanticleer that fools should be so deep contemplative.
All the world’s a stage, and all the men and women merely players; they have their exits and their entrances, and one man in his time plays many parts, his acts being seven ages.
Run, run, Orlando, carve on every tree the fair, the chaste, and unexpressive she.
O wonderful, wonderful, and most wonderful, and yet again wonderful, and after that, out of all whooping!
Then there is no true lover in the forest, else sighing every minute and groaning every hour would detect the lazy foot of Time as well as a clock.
Love is merely a madness, and, I tell you, deserves as well a dark house and a whip as madmen do; and the reason why they are not so punished and cured is that the lunacy is so ordinary that the whippers are in love too. Yet I profess curing it by counsel.
O, for shame, for shame, lie not, to say mine eyes are murderers. Now show the wound mine eye hath made in thee.
Dead shepherd, now I find thy saw of might, “Who ever loved that loved not at first sight?”
Nay, you were better speak first, and when you were graveled for lack of matter, you might take occasion to kiss. Very good orators, when they are out, they will spit; and for lovers, lacking – God warn us! – matter, the cleanliest shift is to kiss.
Twice did he turn his back and purposed so; but kindness, nobler ever than revenge, and nature, stronger than his just occasion, made him give battle to the lioness.
Your brother and my sister no sooner met but they looked; no sooner looked but they loved; no sooner loved but they sighed; no sooner sighed but they asked one another the reason; no sooner knew the reason but they sought the remedy; and in these degrees have they made a pair of stairs to marriage.
Peace ho! I bar confusion; ‘Tis I must make conclusion of these most strange events. Here’s eight that must take hands to join in Hymen’s bands, if truth holds true contents.
Play, music, and you brides and bridegrooms all, with measure heaped in joy, to th’measures fall.