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He was indeed the glass Wherein the noble youth did dress themselves.

And oftentimes excusing of a fault doth make the fault the worse by the excuse.

Oft expectation fails, and most oft there Where most it promises; and oft it hits Where hope is coldest and despair most fits.

I am giddy; expectation whirls me round. Th' imaginary relish is so sweet That it enchants my sense.

Many a time and oft Have you climbed up to walls and battlements, To tow'rs and windows, yea, to chimney tops, Your infants in your arms, and there have sat The livelong day, with patient expectation, To see great Pompey pass the streets of Rome.

Promising is the very air o' th' time; it opens the eyes of expectation. Performance is ever duller for his act; and, but in the plainer and simpler kind of people, the deed of saying is quite out of use. To promise is most courtly and fashionable; performance is a kind of will or testament which argues a great sickness in his judgment that makes it.

He hath borne himself beyond the promise of his age, doing in the figure of a lamb the feats of a lion. He hath indeed bettered expectation than you must expect of me to tell you how.

We have scorched the snake, not killed it. She'll close and be herself, whilst our poor malice Remains in danger of her former tooth.

On Tuesday last A falcon, now tow'ring in her pride of place, Was by a mousing owl hawked at and killed.

My falcon now is sharp and passing empty, And till she stoop she must not be full-gorged, For then she never looks upon her lure.

When last the young Orlando parted from you, He left a promise to return again Within a hour; and pacing through the forest, Chewing the food of sweet and bitter fancy, Lo, what befell!

Tell me where is fancy bred, Or in the heart, or in the head? How begot, how nourished? Reply, reply. It is engend'red in the eyes, With gazing fed, and fancy dies In the cradle where it lies.

So full of shapes is fancy That it alone is high fantastical.

Let fancy still in my sense in Lethe steep; If it be thus to dream, still let me sleep!

Come, let's have one other gaudy night. Call to me. All my sad captains. Fill our bowls once more. Let's mock the midnight bell.

The courtier's, soldier's, scholar's, eye, tongue, sword, Th' expectancy and rose of the fair state, The glass of fashion and the mould of form, Th' observed of all observers, quite, quite down!

You, sir, I entertain for one of my hundred; only I do not like the fashion of your garments.

Death my lord, Their clothes are after such a pagan cut to 't That sure th' have worn out Christendom.

All this I see; and I see that the fashion wears out more apparel than the man. But art not thou thyself giddy with the fashion too, that thou hast shifted out of thy tale into telling me of the fashion?

I'll be at charges for a looking-glass And entertain a score or two of tailors To study fashions to adorn my body: Since I am crept in favor with myself, I will maintain it with some little cost.