The Coward Dies A Thousand Deaths, The

Cease To Lament For That Thou Canst Not Help; And Study Help For That Which Thou Lamentest.

Short Summers Lightly Have A Forward Spring.

Yet, Do Thy Worst, Old Time; Despite Thy Wrong, My Love Shall In My Verse Ever Live Young.

We All Are Men, In Our Own Natures Frail, And Capable Of Our Flesh; Few Are Angels.

Against My Will I Am Sent To Bid You Come In To Dinner. Benedick Fair Beatrice, I Thank You For Your Pains. Beatrice I Took No More Pains For Those Thanks Than You Take Pains To Thank Me: If It Had Been Painful, I Would Not Have Come. Benedick You Take Pleasure Then In The Message? Beatrice Yea, Just So Much As You May Take Upon A Knife's Point ... You Have No Stomach, Signior: Fare You Well. Exit Benedick Ha! 'against My Will I Am Sent To Bid You Come In To Dinner;' There's A Double Meaning In That... (much Ado About Nothing)