He was ever precise in promise-keeping.
I am a true laborer: I earn that I eat, get that I wear, owe no man hate, envy no man's happiness, glad of other men's good, content with my harm.
Too much of water hast thou, poor Ophelia, And therefore I forbid my tears.
Who is Silvia What is she, That all our swains commend her Holy, fair, and wise is she.
My purpose is, indeed, a horse of that color.
O, then, what graces in my love do dwell, that he hath turn'd a heaven unto hell