I'll go find a shadow, and sigh till he come" (Phebe)

Time's the king of men; he's both their parent, and he is their grave, and gives them what he will, not what they crave.

But whate'er you are That in this desert inaccessible, Under the shade of melancholy boughs, Lose and neglect the creeping hours of time; If you have ever looked on better days, If ever been where bells knoll'd to church, If ever sat at any good man's feast, If ever from your eyelids wiped a tear, And know what 'tis to pity and be pitied, Let gentleness my strong enforcement be. . . .

If music be the food of love, play on.

Is there no respect of place, persons, nor time in you?

Good Hamlet, cast thy nighted colour off ... Do not for ever with thy vailed lids Seek for thy noble father in the dust.

Here's that which is too weak to be a sinner, honest water, which ne'er left man i' the mire.