“When the hurlyburly's done,When the battle's lost and won.”

“Where shall we three meet again in thunder, lightning, or in rain? When the hurlyburly 's done, when the battle 's lost and won”

“Great Timon, noble, worthy, royal Timon! Ah, when the means are gone that buy this praise, The breath is gone whereof this praise is made: Feast-won, fast-lost; one cloud of winter showers, These flies are couch'd.”

“Things won are done, joy's soul lies in the doing.”

“For, boy, however we do praise ourselves,Our fancies are more giddy and unfirm,More longing, wavering, sooner lost and won,Than women's are. ...For women are as roses, whose fair flow'rBeing once display'd doth fall that very hour.Viola: And so they are; alas, that they are so!To die, even when they to perfection grow!”

“I am afeard there are few die well that die in battle, for how can they charitably dispose of anything when blood is their argument?”

“Yet this my comfort: when your words are done,My woes end likewise with the evening sun.”