When our actions do not, our fears make us traitors.
Like as the waves make towards the pebbl'd shore, so do our minutes, hasten to their end.
Our wills and fates do so contrary run, That our devices still are overthrown; Our thoughts are ours, their ends none of our own.
Fair, kind, and true, have often lived alone.
My chastity's the jewel of our house, bequeathed down from many ancestors.
When a gentlemen is disposed to swear, it is not for any standers-by to curtail his oaths.