For This Relief, Much Thanks

Where Love Is Great, The Littlest Doubts Are Fear; Where Little Fears Grow Great, Great Love Grows There.

But, Indeed, Words Are Very Rascals, Since Bonds [vows] Disgraced Them." Viola: "thy Reason, Man?" Feste: "troth [truthfully], Sir, I Can Yield You None Without Words, And Words Are Grown So False, I Am Loathe To Prove Reason With Them.

Full Fathom Five Thy Father Lies

Brevity Is The Soul Of Wit.

To Mourn A Mischief That Is Past And Gone Is The Next Way To Draw New Mischief On.