As there comes light from heaven and words from breath, As there is sense in truth and truth in virtue
Journeys end in lovers meeting.
The ides of March are come. Soothsayer: Ay, Caesar; but not gone.
God grant us patience!
I dare do all that may become a man; Who dares do more, is none
And keep you in the rear of your affection, Out of the shot and danger of desire, The chariest maid is prodigal enough If she unmasks her beauty to the moon.