The teeming Autumn big with rich increase, bearing the wanton burden of the prime like widowed wombs after their lords decease.

Report of fashions in proud Italy Whose manners still our tardy-apish nation Limps after in base imitation

Man, proud man, drest in a little brief authority, most ignorant of what he's most assur d, glassy essence, like an angry ape, plays such fantastic tricks before high heaven, as make the angels weep.

it is my lady! *sighs* o, it is my love! o, that she knew she were! she speaks, yet she sais nothing. what of that? her eye discourses; i will answer it. i am too bold, 'tis not to me she speaks; two of the fairest stars in all the heaven, having some business, do entreat her eyes to twinkle in their spheres till they return.

This is his uncle's teaching, this Worcester, Malevolent to you In all aspects, Which makes him prune himself and bristle up The crest of youth against your dignity.

When once our grace we have forgot, Nothing goes right.

They told me I was everything. 'Tis a lie, I am not ague-proof.