Alas, our frailty is the cause , not we! For, such as we are made of, such we be.
Fortune brings in some boats that are not steered.
Each present joy or sorrow seems the chief.
Is it possible that love should of a sudden take such a hold?
Poor and content, is rich and rich enough; But riches, fineless, is as poor as winter, To him that ever fears he shall be poor.
Kiss me, Kate, we shall be married o'Sunday