Talkers Are No Good Doers.

I Must Be Gone And Live, Or Stay And Die.

A Violet In The Youth Of Primy Nature, Forward, Not Permanent--sweet, Not Lasting; The Perfume And Suppliance Of A Minute; No More.

Through The Forest Have I Gone. But Athenian Found I None, On Whose Eyes I Might Approve This Flower's Force In Stirring Love. Night And Silence.--who Is Here? Weeds Of Athens He Doth Wear: This Is He, My Master Said, Despised The Athenian Maid; And Here The Maiden, Sleeping Sound, On The Dank And Dirty Ground. Pretty Soul! She Durst Not Lie Near This Lack-love, This Kill-courtesy. Churl, Upon Thy Eyes I Throw All The Power This Charm Doth Owe. When Thou Wakest, Let Love Forbid Sleep His Seat On Thy Eyelid: So Awake When I Am Gone; For I Must Now To Oberon.

Though I Be But Prince Of Wales, Yet I Am The King Of Courtesy.

I Am Not Only Witty In Myself, But The Cause That Wit Is In Other Men.