Oppose not rage while rage is in its force, but give it way a while and let it waste.
What must be shall be.
When great leaves fall, the winter is at hand.
Sin will pluck on sin.
The iron tongue of Midnight hath told twelve lovers, to bed; 'tis almost fairy time. I fear we shall outstep the coming morn as much as we this night over-watch'd.
Truth will come to sight; murder cannot be hid long.