“Good, happy, swift; there's gunpowder i'th' court,Wildfire at midnight in this heedless fury.”

“Ha! What news here? Is the day out a' th' socketThat it is noon at midnight? The court up?”

“FRANCISCUS: How sweetly she looks! Oh, but there's a wrinkle in her brow as deep as philosophy.”

“How sweetly she looks! O, but there's a wrinkle in her brow as deep as philosophy. - Anacreon, drink to my mistress' health, I'll pledge it. Stay, stay, there's a spider in the cup! No, 'tis but a grape-stone; swallow it, fear nothing, poet. So, so; lift higher.”

“The slowest kiss makes too much haste.”

“Has not heaven an ear? Is all the lightning wasted?”

“As fast as they peep up let's cut 'em down.”