Time is the old justice that examines all such offenders, and let Time try.

For where is any author in the world Teaches such beauty as a woman's eye?

Enjoy'd no sooner but despised straight, Past reason hunted, and no sooner had Past reason hated

Love reasons without reason.

Hamlet: Is this a prologue, or the posy of a ring? Ophelia: 'Tis brief, my lord. Hamlet: As woman's love.

Through tattered clothes, small vices do appear. Robes and furred gowns hide all.

I do profess to be no less than I seem; to serve him truly that will put me in trust: to love him that is honest; to converse with him that is wise, and says little; to fear judgment; to fight when I cannot choose; and to eat no fish.