O, Thou hast damnable iteration; and art, indeed, able to corrupt a saint.

For sweetest things turn sourest by their deeds; Lillies that fester smell far worse than weeds.

No, Time, thou shalt not boast that I do change.

And oftentimes excusing of a fault doth make the fault the worse by the excuse.

He doth nothing but talk of his horses.

I and my bosom must debate awhile, and then I would no other company.

Men are April when they woo, December when they wed. Maids are May when they are maids, but the sky changes when they are wives.