Wooing, wedding, and repenting is as a Scotch jig, a measure, and a cinque-pace: the first suit is hot and hasty like a Scotch jig--and full as fantastical; the wedding, mannerly modest, as a measure, full of state and ancientry; and then comes repentance and with his bad legs falls into the cinque-pace faster and faster, till he sink into his grave.

Tis in ourselves that we are thus or thus. Our bodies are our gardens to the which our wills are gardeners.

Tomorrow, and tomorrow, and tomorrow,Creeps in this petty pace from day to day

Heaven truly knows that thou art false as hell.

Well, honor is the subject of my story.

Love is too young to know what conscience is.

For what I will, I will, and there an end.