Lovers ever run before the clock

The purest treasure mortal times can afford is a spotless reputation.

When remedies are past, the griefs are ended By seeing the worst, which late on hopes depended. To mourn a mischief that is past and gone Is the next way to draw new mischief on. What cannot be preserved when fortune takes, Patience her injury a mockery makes. The robb'd that smiles steals something for the thief; He robs himself that spends a bootless grief.

If you be King, why should not I succeed?

Your "if" is the only peacemaker; much virtue in "if.

A college of wit-crackers cannot flout me out of my humor. Dost thou think I care for a satire or an epigram?

Delay leads impotent and snail-paced beggary.