Who buys a minute's mirth to wail a week? Or sell eternity to get a toy? For one grape who will the vine destroy?

Sin will pluck on sin.

I see that the fashion wears out more apparel than the man.

Now, God be praised, that to believing souls gives light in darkness, comfort in despair.

He that hath the steerage of my course, Direct my sail.

Now would I give a thousand furlongs of sea for an acre of barren ground.

Friends, Romans, countrymen, lend me your ears; I come to bury Caesar, not to praise him.