I shall show the cinders of my spirits Through the ashes of my chance.
By medicine life may be prolonged, yet death will seize the doctor too.
Where the bee sucks, there suck I In the cow-slip's bell i lie There I couch when owls do cry
Thyself shall see the act; For, as thou urgest justice, be assured Thou shalt have justice, more than thou desir'st.
O for a horse with wings!
Women being the weaker vessels, are ever thrust to the walls.