Honour travels in a strait so narrow Where one but goes abreast.

Light and lust are deadly enemies.

When griping grief the heart doth wound, and doleful dumps the mind opresses, then music, with her silver sound, with speedy help doth lend redress.

I have full cause of weeping, but this heart shall break into a hundred thousand flaws or ere I'll weep.

I were better to be eaten to death with a rust than to be scoured to nothing with perpetual motion.

Your date is better in your pie and your porridge than in your cheek.

Tis now the very witching time of night, when churchyards yawn and hell itself breathes out Contagion to this world.