The World Must Be Peopled

This can be no trick: the conference was sadly borne.

They have the truth of this from Hero. They seem to pity the lady: it seems her affections have their full bent.

Love me? why, it must be requited.

I hear how I am censured: they say I will bear myself proudly, if I perceive the love come from her; they say too that she will rather die than give any sign of affection.

I did never think to marry: I must not seem proud: happy are they that hear their detractions, and can put them to mending.

They say the lady is fair: ’tis a truth, I can bear them witness; and virtuous: ’tis so, I cannot reprove it;

and wise, but for loving me: by my troth, it is no addition to her wit, nor no great argument of her folly, for I will be horribly in love with her.

I may chance have some odd quirks and remnants of wit broken on me, because I have railed so long against marriage; but doth not the appetite alter?

A man loves the meat in his youth that he cannot endure in his age.

Shall quips and sentences and these paper bullets of the brain awe a man from the career of his humour?

No; the world must be peopled.

When I said I would die a bachelor, I did not think I should live till I were married.

Here comes Beatrice. By this day! she’s a fair lady: I do spy some marks of love in her.