Sweet flowers are slow and weeds make haste.

When great leaves fall, the winter is at hand.

Conceal me what I am, and be my aid for such disguise as haply shall become the form of my intent.

Not proud you have, but thankful that you have. Proud can I never be of what I hate, but thankful even for hate that is meant love.

That in the captains but a choleric word Which in the soldier is flat blasphemy.

T'is true: there's magic in the web of it.

It is the bright day that brings forth the adder, and that craves wary walking.