Sigh no more, ladies, sigh no more, Men were deceivers ever,- One foot in sea and one on shore, To one thing constant never.
It is as easy to count atomies as to resolve the propositions of a lover.
Thou hast most traitorously corrupted the youth of the realm in erecting a grammar school.
Is this a dagger which I see before me, The handle toward my hand?
All surfeit is the father of much fast.
Is it not strange that desire should so many years outlive performance?