We Are Time's Subjects, And

Ever Note, Lucilius, When Love Begins To Sicken And Decay It Useth An Enforced Ceremony. There Are No Tricks In Plain And Simple Faith; But Hollow Men, Like Horses Hot At Hand, Make Gallant Show And Promise Of Their Mettle; But When They Should Endure The Bloody Spur, They Fall Their Crests, And Like Deceitful Jades Sink In The Trial.

But Love That Comes Too Late, Like A Remorseful Pardon Slowly Carried, To The Great Sender Turns A Sour Offense, Crying, 'that's Good That's Gone.

Sir Andrew Ague-cheek: I'll Stay A Month Longer. I Am A Fellow O' The Strangest Mind I' The World; I Delight In Masques And Revels Sometimes Altogether (he's An Oddity In That He Enjoys Having Fun)

Kiss Me, Kate, We Shall Be Married O'sunday

Officers, What Offence Have These Men Done? Dogberry Marry, Sir, They Have Committed False Report; Moreover, They Have Spoken Untruths; Secondarily, They Are Slanders; Sixth And Lastly, They Have Belied A Lady; Thirdly, They Have Verified Unjust Things; And, To Conclude, They Are Lying Knaves.