Let men say we be men of good government, being governed, as the sea is, by our noble and chaste mistress the moon, under whose countenance we steal.

Come, Lady, die to live.

Thou shalt not stir one foot to seek a foe.

How soar sweet music is, when time is broke, and no proportion kept!

Thou seest I have more flesh than another man, and therefore more frailty.

Thou art a boil, a plague sore, an embossed carbuncle in my corrupted blood.

With caution judge of probability. Things deemed unlikely, e'en impossible, experience oft hath proved to be true.