Die for adultery! No: The wren goes to't, and the small gilded fly does lecher in my sight

A light wife doth make a heavy husband.

My glass shall not persuade me I am old, So long as youth and thou are of one date; But when in thee time's furrows I behold, Then look I death my days should expiate.

Which can say more than this rich praise, that you alone are you?

Patch grief with proverbs.

I wasted time, and now doth time waste me.

My only love sprung from my only hate.