How poor are they that have not patience! What wound did ever heal but by degrees?
Light and lust are deadly enemies.
And his unkindness may defeat my life, But never taint my love.
What have we here? a man or a fish? dead or alive? A fish: he smells like a fish; a very ancient and fishlike smell; a kind of not of the newest poor-John. A strange fish!
We will have rings and things and fine array
If you be King, why should not I succeed?