I Am Never Merry When I Hear

A Goodly Portly Man, I' Faith, And A Corpulent; Of A Cheerful Look, A Pleasing Eye, And A Most Noble Carriage; And, As I Think, His Age Some Fifty, Or, By'r Lady, Inclining To Threescore; And Now I Remember Me, His Name Is Falstaff.

Is Love A Tender Thing? It Is Too Rough, Too Rude, Too Boisterous, And It Pricks Like Thorn.

All's Well If All Ends Well.

Not A Whit, We Defy Augury: There's A Special Providence In The Fall Of A Sparrow. If It Be Now, 'tis Not To Come; If It Be Not To Come, It Will Be Now; If It Be Not Now, Yet It Will Come: The Readiness Is All.

Appetite, A Universal Wolf.