I Must To The Barber's, Monsieur, For

If Thou Remeber'st Not The Slightest Folly That Ever Love Did Make Thee Run Into, Thou Hast Not Lov'd

Past All Shame, So Past All Truth.

And Therefore Is Love Said To Be A Child, Because In Choice He Is So Oft Beguil'd

A Fool's Bolt Is Soon Shot.

He Hath Not Eat Paper, As It Were; He Hath Not Drunk Ink; His Intellect Is Not Replenished; He Is Only An Animal, Only Sensible In The Duller Parts. (shakespeare, Love's Labor's Lost, Iv)