There's an old saying that applies to me: you can't lose a game if you don't play the game. (Act 1, scene 4)

When our actions do not, our fears make us traitors.

He is dead and gone, lady, He is dead and gone; At his head a grass-green turf, At his heels a stone.

Brevity is the soul of wit.

The gaudy, blabbing, and remorseful day Is crept into the bosom of the sea.

Well, honor is the subject of my story.

I thank God I am not a woman, to be touched in so many giddy offences as He hath generally taxed their whole their whole sex withal.