He that hath a beard is more than a youth, and he that hath no beard is less than a man; and he that is more than a youth is not for me, and he that is less than a man, I am not for him.
On the Alps It is reported thou didst eat strange flesh, Which some did die to look on.
Lord, Lord, how this world is given to lying!
Then join you with them like a rib of steel, To make strength stronger.
Dost thou think, though I am caparisoned like a man, I have a doublet and hose in my disposition?
A walking shadow, a poor player, that struts and frets his hour upon the stage, And then is heard no more.
Die two months ago, and not forgotten yet? Then there's hope a great man's memory may outlive his life half a year.
Promise me life, and I'll confess the truth.
Let us seek out some desolate shade, and there Weep our sad bosoms empty.
My glass shall not persuade me I am old So long as youth and thou are of one date, But when in thee time's furrows I behold, Then look I death my days should expiate.