O, thou art fairer than the evening air clad in the beauty of a thousand stars.
Jigging veins of rhyming mother wits.
Come live with me and be my love, And we will all the pleasures prove, That valleys, groves, hills, and fields, Woods, or steepy mountain yields.
Confess and be hanged.
I'm armed with more than complete steel, - The justice of my quarrel.
Live and die in Aristotle's works.
Virtue is the fount whence honour springs.
Above our life we love a steadfast friend.
Money can't buy love, but it improves your bargaining position.
That perfect bliss and sole felicity, the sweet fruition of an earthly crown.
What feeds me destroys me.
While money doesn't buy love, it puts you in a great bargaining position.
Who ever loved that loved not at first sight?
I count religion but a childish toy, and hold there is no sin but ignorance.
Goodness is beauty in the best estate.
What are kings, when regiment is gone, but perfect shadows in a sunshine day?
There is no sin but ignorance.
Excess of wealth is cause of covetousness.
All places are alike, and every earth is fit for burial.
Is it not passing brave to be a King and ride in triumph through Persepolis?