Who could refrain that had a heart to love and in that heart courage to make love known?
When sorrows come they come not single spies but in battalions.
There’s no art to find the mind’s construction in the face.
The lunatic the lover and the poet are of imagination all compact.
The man that hath no music in himself Nor is not moved with concord of sweet sounds is fit for treasons stratagems and spoils.
Our peace shall stand as firm as rocky mountains.
Let every eye negotiate for itself and trust no agent.
It is not in the stars to hold our destiny but in ourselves.
If music be the food of love play on.
I hold the world but as the world Gratiano A stage where every man must play a part And mine is a sad one.