Sweet Beatrice, wouldst thou come when I called thee? BEATRICE Yea, signior, and depart when you bid me. BENEDICK O, stay but till then! BEATRICE 'Then' is spoken; fare you well now... (Much Ado About Nothing)

The bird that hath been limed in a bush, with trembling wings misdoubteth every bush.

Tomorrow, and tomorrow, and tomorrow,Creeps in this petty pace from day to day

Virtue itself turns vice, being misapplied, And vice sometime by action dignified.

Dost thou think, because thou art virtuous, there shall be no more cakes and ale?

On pain of death, no person be so bold.

Time is the nurse and breeder of all good.