I wonder that you will still be talking. Nobody marks you.
Golden lads and girls all must as chimney sweepers come to dust.
Ambition should be made of sterner stuff.
He wears his faith but as the fashion of his hat.
Though authority be a stubborn bear, yet he is oft let by the nose with gold.
Sorrow breaks seasons and reposing hours, Makes the night morning, and the noontide night.