Why, there's a wench! Come on, and kiss me, Kate.
Though Death be poor, it ends a mortal woe.
"Lawyers Are": Perilous mouths.
He knows what it's like to strut and fret his hour upon the stage and then be heard no more.
He shall spurn fate, scorn death, and bear His hopes 'bove wisdom, grace and fear: And you all know, security Is mortals' chiefest enemy.
Some smack of age in you, some relish of the saltness of time.