Affliction is enamoured of thy parts, And thou art wedded to calamity.

Vice repeated is like the wandering wind, blows dust in others' eyes to spread itself.

When he shall die, Take him and cut him out in little stars, And he will make the face of heaven so fine That all the world will be in love with night And pay no worship to the garish sun.

A man loves the meat in his youth that he cannot endure in his age.

A cup of hot wine with not a drop of allaying Tiber in 't.

In the modesty of fearful duty, I read as much as from the rattling tongue of saucy and audacious eloquence.

For you and I are past our dancing days.