Jaques: Rosalind Is Your Love's Name? Orlando:

With Mirth And Laughter Let Old Wrinkles Come. And Let My Liver Rather Heat With Wine, Than My Heart Cool With Mortifying Groans.

I Have Almost Forgotten The Taste Of Fears: The Time Has Been, My Senses Would Have Cool’d To Hear A Night-shriek; And My Fell Of Hair Would At A Dismal Treatise Rouse And Stir As Life Were In’t: I Have Supt Full With Horrors; Direness, Familiar To My Slaughterous Thoughts, Cannot Once Start Me.

Modest Wisdom Plucks Me From Over-credulous Haste.

The Let-alone Lies Not In Your Good Will.

Some Kinds Of Baseness Are Nobly Undergone.