Before I knew thee, Hal, I knew nothing, and now am I, if a man should speak truly, little better than one of the wicked.
So turns she every man the wrong side out, And never gives to truth and virtue that Which simpleness and merit purchaseth.
More are men's ends marked than their lives before. The setting sun, and music at the close, As the last taste of sweets, is sweetest last, Writ in remembrance more than things long past.
I do begin to perceive that I am made an ass.
Kindness in women, not their beauteous looks, Shall win my love.
The weary sun hath made a golden set, And by the bright track of his fiery car Gives token of a goodly day tomorrow.
Duke (in disguise). I pray you, sir, of what disposition was the Duke? Escalus. One that, above all other strifes, contended especially to know himself.
And thus the whirligig of time brings in his revenges.
He has the prettiest love-songs for maids, so without bawdry, which is strange.
The spring, the summer, The childing autumn, angry winter change Their wonted liveries, and the mazèd world By their increase now knows not which is which.