And too soon Marred are those so early Made.
Thou knowest, winter tames man, woman, and beast.
Rumor is a pipe Blown by surmises, jealousies, conjectures.
Men should be what they seem; Or those that be not, would they might seem none!.
The weight of this sad time we must obey, Speak what we feel, not what we ought to say. The oldest hath borne most: we that are young Shall never see so much, nor live so long.
When love begins to sicken and decay it uses an enforced ceremony.