I will speak daggers to her, but use none.

Nothing 'gainst Times scythe can make defence.

In religion, What damned error but some sober brow Will bless it, and approve it with a text, Hiding the grossness with fair ornament?

The bitter past, more welcome is the sweet.

Antonio: Will you stay no longer? nor will you not that I go with you? Sebastian: By your patience, no. My stars shine darkly over me; the malignancy of my fate might, perhaps, distemper yours; therefore I shall crave of you your leave that I may bear my evils alone. It were a bad recompense for your love to lay any of them on you.

Modest doubt is called the beacon of the wise.

Well, honor is the subject of my story.