Time is the old justice that examines all such offenders, and let Time try.
On Rumor's tongue continual slanders ride.
O madam, my old heart is cracked, it's cracked!
His jest will savour but of shallow wit, When thousands weep, more than did laugh at it.
Death lies on her like an untimely frost.
This day's black fate on more days doth depend; This but begins the woe, others must end.