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To feed were best at home; From thence, the sauce is meat to ceremony: Meeting were bare without it.

It is religion to be thus forsworn, For charity itself fulfills the law And who can never love from charity?

Lady, you know no rules of charity, Which renders good for bad, blessings for curses.

Mine honor's such a ring; My chastity's the jewel of our house, Bequeathed down from many ancestors, Which were the greatest obloquy i' th' world In me to lose.

A nun of winter's sisterhood kisses not more religiously; the very ice of chastity is in them.

The noble sister of Publicola, The moon of Rome, chaste as the icicle That's curded by the frost from purest snow And hangs on Dian's temple--dear Valeria!

Me of my lawful pleasure she restrained And prayed me oft forbearance--did it with A pudency so rosy, the sweet view on't Might well have warmed old Saturn--that I thought her As chaste as unsunned snow.

Had she been light, like you, Of such a merry, nimble, stirring spirit, She might ha' been a grandam ere she died; And so may you, for a light heart lives long.

Pluck up thy spirits, look cheerfully upon me. Here, love, thou seest how diligent I am To dress thy meat myself and bring it thee.

He makes a July's day short as December, And with his varying childness cures in me Thoughts that would thick my blood.

As long as there is a chance of the world getting through its troubles, I hold that a reasonable man must behave as though he were sure of it. If at the end your cheerfulness was not justified, at any rate you will have been cheerful.

It is a wise father that knows his own child.

If it be aught toward the general good, Set honor in one eye and death i' th' other, And I will look on both indifferently; For let the gods so speed me as I love The name of honor more than I fear death.

Which of them shall I take? Both? One? Or neither? Neither can be enjoyed, If both remain alive. To take the widow Exasperates, makes mad her sister Goneril; And hardly shall I carry out my side, Her husband being alive.

I will not choose what many men desire, Because I will not jump with common spirits And rank me with the barbarous multitudes.

Preferment goes by letter and affection, And not by old gradation, where each second Stood heir to th's first.

Preferment goes by letter and affection.

Therefore, friends, As far as to the sepulchre of Christ-- Whose soldier now, under whose blessed cross We are impressed and engaged to fight-- Fourthwith a power of English shall we levy, Whose arms were moulded in their mother's womb To chase these pagans in those holy fields Over whose acres walked those blessed feet Which fourteen hundred years ago were nailed For our advantage on the bitter cross.

Take her, fair son, and from her blood raise up Issue to me, that the contending kingdoms Of France and England, whose very shores look pale With envy of each other's happiness, May cease their hatred, and this dear conjunction Plant neighborhood and Christian-like accord In their sweet bosoms, that never war advance His bleeding sword 'twixt England and fair France.

O father Abram, what these Christians are, Whose own hard dealings teaches them suspect The thoughts of others!