Time's the king of men; he's both their parent, and he is their grave, and gives them what he will, not what they crave.
The gloomy shade of death.
What e'er thou art, act well thy part.
We waste our lights in vain, like lamps by day.
Your gentleness shall force More than your force move us to gentleness.
RUMOUR: "Upon my tongues continual slanders ride, The which in every language I pronounce, Stuffing the ears of men with false reports.