Why should honor outlive honestly? Orthello

There is a time in the affairs of men, Which, taken at the flood, leads on to fortune.

And his unkindness may defeat my life, But never taint my love.

Shall I compare thee to a summer's day?

That time of year thou mayst in me behold When yellow leaves, or none, or few, do hang Upon those boughs which shake against the cold, Bare ruin'd choirs, where late the sweet birds sang. In me thou seest the twilight of such day, As after sunset fadeth in the west, Which by-and-by black night doth take away.

As you from crimes would pardon'd be, Let your indulgence set me free.

Better three hours too soon, than one hour to late.