Farewell! a long farewell to all my greatness!

There are no tricks in plain and simple faith.

A light wife doth make a heavy husband.

O! that a man might know The end of this day's business, ere it come; But it sufficeth that the day will end, And then the end is known.

You know who you are, but know not who you could be.

Her blood is settled, and her joints are stiff; Life and these lips have long been separated: Death lies on her like an untimely frost Upon the sweetest flower of all the field.

How easy it is for the proper-false in woman's waxen hearts to set their forms!