There was never yet fair woman but she made mouths in a glass.
For though the camomile, the more it is trodden on the faster it grows, yet youth, the more it is wasted, the sooner it wears.
It is in pardoning that we are pardoned.
Exit, pursued by a bear.
O the world is but a word; were it all yours to give it in a breath, how quickly were it gone!
There's some ill planet reigns: I must be patient till the heavens look With an aspect more favourable.