That which is now a horse, even with a thought The rack dislimms, and makes it indistinct As water is in water
Oh, I am fortune's fool!
Where shall we three meet again in thunder, lightning, or in rain? When the hurlyburly 's done, when the battle 's lost and won
In a false quarrel there is no true valor.
For grief is crowned with consolation.
Men's vows are women's traitors