And be these juggling friends no more believ'd, That palter with us in a double sense; That keep the word of promise to our ear And break it to our hope.

So are you to my thoughts as food to life, or as sweet seasoned showers are to the ground.

If people knew how much I hated them, they'd love me for holding it in.

Be not afraid of greatness.

It is the stars, The stars above us, govern our conditions.

What a deformed thief this fashion is.

A nun of winter's sisterhood kisses not more religiously; the very ice of chastity is in them.