So quick bright things come to confusion.
By my soul I swear, there is no power in the tongue of man to alter me.
To sue to live, I find I seek to die; And, seeking death, find life: let it come on.
A light wife doth make a heavy husband.
Not from the stars do I my judgement pluck, And yet methinks I have astronomy. But not to tell of good or evil luck, Of plagues, of dearths, or season's quality; Nor can I fortune to brief minutes tell ... Or say with princes if it shall go well.
It is as easy to count atomies as to resolve the propositions of a lover.