Never; he will not: Age cannot wither her, nor custom stale Her infinite variety: other women cloy The appetites they feed: but she makes hungry Where most she satisfies.
I have a soul of lead So stakes me to the ground I cannot move.
Short time seems long in sorrow's sharp sustaining.
I see that the fashion wears out more apparel than the man.
true apothecary thy drugs art quick
Cease to lament for that thou canst not help; and study help for that which thou lamentest.