Women are not In their best fortunes strong, but want will perjure the ne'er-touched vestal.
O madam, my old heart is cracked, it's cracked!
As good luck would have it, comes in one Mistress Page, gives intelligence of Ford's approach, and in her invention, and Ford's wife's distraction, they conveyed me into a buck-basket.
But she makes hungry Where she most satisfies.
My mistress' eyes are nothing like the sun
Still it cried ‘Sleep no more!’ to all the house: ‘Glamis hath murder’d sleep, and therefore Cawdor shall sleep no more,—Macbeth shall sleep no more!