You have lost no reputation at all, unless you repute yourself such a loser.

Thou art a boil, a plague sore, an embossed carbuncle in my corrupted blood.

And by that destiny to perform an act Whereof what's past is prologue, what to come In yours and my discharge.

I have seen roses damask'd, red and white, But no such roses see I in her cheeks.

We are oft to blame in this, - 'tis too much proved, - that with devotion's visage, and pios action we do sugar o'er the devil himself.

Sin from thy lips? O trespass sweetly urged! Give me my sin again.

When a gentlemen is disposed to swear, it is not for any standers-by to curtail his oaths.