To be honest, as this world goes, is to be one man picked out of ten thousand.
You taught me language, and my profit on't / Is, I know how to curse
Keep time! How sour sweet music is when time is broke and no proportion kept! So is it in the music of men's lives. I wasted time and now doth time waste me.
O hell! to choose love with another's eye.
Look, what a horse should have he did not lack, Save a proud rider on his back.
Farewell! thou art too dear for my possessing.