Keep Up Your Bright Swords, For The

The Bitter Past, More Welcome Is The Sweet.

What, My Dear Lady Disdain! Are You Yet Living? Beatrice: Is It Possible Disdain Should Die While She Hath Such Meet Food To Feed It As Signior Benedick?

Nay, We Must Think Men Are Not Gods, Nor Of Them Look For Such Observancy As Fits The Bridal.

Thou Know'st 'tis Common; All That Lives Must Die, Passing Through Nature To Eternity.

No Beast So Fierce But Knows Some Touch Of Pity. But I Know None, And Therefore Am No Beast.