When a father gives to his son, both laugh; when a son gives to his father, both cry.
When I have seen such interchange of state, Or state itself confounded, to decay; Ruin hath taught me thus to ruminate— That Time will come and take my love away. This thought is as a death which cannot choose But weep to have, that which it fears to lose.
When holy and devout religious men Are at their beads tis hard to draw them thence So sweet is zealous contemplation.
What, you egg? [He stabs him.]
When words are scarce they are seldom spent in vain.
What? drawn and talk of peace? I hate the word as I hate Hell, all Montagues, and thee.
When in that moment,—so it came to pass,— Titania wak'd, and straightway lov'd an ass.
When we are born, we cry that we are come to this great stage of fools.
What, my dear Lady Disdain! Are you yet living?