Who is it can read a woman?

A young man married is a man that's marred.

O, I do not like that paying back, 'tis a double labor.

You are an alchemist; make gold of that.

I do I know not what, and fear to find Mine eye too great a flatterer for my mind. Fate, show thy force. Ourselves we do not owe. What is decreed must be; and be this so.

Tis now the very witching time of night, when churchyards yawn and hell itself breathes out Contagion to this world.

The horn, the horn, the lusty horn Is not a thing to laugh to scorn.