Here comes a man of comfort, whose advice Hath often stilled my brawling discontent.
A young man married is a man that's marred.
Come give us a taste of your quality.
What fates impose, that men must needs abide; it boots not to resist both wind and tide.
The last taste of sweets is sweetest last.
The teeming Autumn big with rich increase, bearing the wanton burden of the prime like widowed wombs after their lords decease.