Tis time to fear when tyrants seem to kiss.
My love's more richer than my tongue.
O, here Will I set up my everlasting rest And shake the yoke of inauspicious stars From the world-wearied flesh
Oh! it offends me to the soul to hear a robust periwig-pated fellow, tear a passion to tatters, to very rags, to split the ears of the groundlings.
A young man married is a man that's marred.
Let them obey that knows not how to rule.