My only love sprung from my only hate.
The third day comes a frost, a killing frost.
Our remedies oft in ourselves do lie, Which we ascribe to Heaven.
There's her cousin, an she were not possessed with a fury, exceeds her as much in beauty as the first of May doth the last of December.
And oftentimes excusing of a fault doth make the fault the worse by the excuse.
Time ... thou ceaseless lackey to eternity.