What, with my tongue in your tail? nay, come again, Good Kate; I am a gentleman.

Tempt not a desperate man

Let never day nor night unhallowed pass, but still remember what the Lord hath done.

The words of Mercury are harsh after the songs of Apollo.

You are thought here to the most senseless and fit man for the job.

But thou, contracted to thine own bright eyes, Feed'st thy light's flame with self-substantial fuel, Making a famine where abundance lies, Thyself thy foe, to thy sweet self too cruel.

Thou art the Mars of malcontents.