Virtue's office never breaks men's troth.

But till all graces be in one woman, one woman shall not come in my grace. Rich she shall be, that's certain; wise, or I'll none; virtuous, or I'll never cheapen her; fair, or I'll never look on her; mild, or come not near me; noble, or not I for an angel; of good discourse, and excellent musician and her hair shall be of what colour it shall please God.

For though the camomile, the more it is trodden on the faster it grows, yet youth, the more it is wasted, the sooner it wears.

They say miracles are past.

Are you sure/That we are awake? It seems to me/That yet we sleep, we dream

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

You wear out a good wholesome forenoon in hearing a cause between an orange wife and a fosset-seller.