Last scene of all, That ends this strange eventful history, Is second childishness, and mere oblivion, Sans teeth, sans eyes, sans taste, sans every thing.

★ ★

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11 November 2014

Thy wit is as quick as the greyhound's mouth; it catches.

★ ★

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11 November 2014

Where souls do couch on flowers, we'll hand in hand, And with our sprightly port make the ghosts gaze.

★ ★

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11 November 2014

I am so lated in the world, that I Have lost my way for ever.

★ ★

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11 November 2014

How has he the leisure to be sick In such a jostling time?

★ ★

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11 November 2014

Let me not think on't; frailty, thy name is woman.

★ ★

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11 November 2014

Come, wilt thou see me ride? And when I am a'horseback, I will swear I love thee infinitely.

★ ★

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11 November 2014

Let not the sound of shallow foppery enter My sober house.

★ ★

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