Oft Have I Heard That

If Ever (as That Ever May Be Near) You Meet In Some Fresh Cheek The Power Of Fancy, Then Shall You Know The Wounds Invisible That Love's Keen, Arrows Make.

A Man Cannot Make Him Laugh; But That's No Marvel; He Drinks No Wine.... If I Had A Thousand Sons, The First Human Principle I Would Teach Them Should Be, To Forswear Thin Potations And To Addict Themselves To Sack.

I Will Speak Daggers To Her, But Use None.

Our Revels Now Are Ended. These Our Actors, As I Foretold You, Were All Spirits And Are Melted Into Air, Into Thin Air: And, Like The Baseless Fabric Of This Vision, The Cloud-capp'd Towers, The Gorgeous Palaces, The Solemn Temples, The Great Globe Itself, Yea, All Which It Inherit, Shall Dissolve And, Like This Insubstantial Pageant Faded, Leave Not A Rack Behind. We Are Such Stuff As Dreams Are Made On, And Our Little Life Is Rounded With A Sleep.

The Proverb Is Something Musty.