Men at some time are masters of their fates. The fault, dear Brutus, is not in our stars, but in ourselves, that we are underlings.

As you are old and reverend, you should be wise.

But we have reason to cool our raging motions, our carnal stings, our unbitted lusts; whereof I take this that you call love to bea sect or scion.... It is merely a lust of the blood and a permission of the will.

I am a man more sinned against than sinning

I rather would entreat thy company; To see the wonders of the world abroad, Than, living dully sluggardized at home, Wear out thy youth with shapeless idleness.

Women are not In their best fortunes strong, but want will perjure the ne'er-touched vestal.

Speak, my fair, and fairly, I pray thee.