Men's eyes were made to look, and let them gaze. I will not budge for no man's pleasure.

Now entertain conjecture of a time When creeping murmur and the poring dark Fills the wide vessel of the universe.

Women are not In their best fortunes strong, but want will perjure the ne'er-touched vestal.

Therefore, to be possess'd with double pomp, To guard a title that was rich before, To gild refined gold, to paint the lily, To throw a perfume on the violet, To smooth the ice, or add another hue Unto the rainbow, or with taper-light To seek the beauteous eye of heaven to garnish, Is wasteful and ridiculous excess.

for my grief's so great That no supporter but the huge firm earth Can hold it up: here I and sorrows sit; Here is my throne, bid kings come bow to it. (Constance, from King John, Act III, scene 1)

The old folk, time's doting chronicles.

Live how we can, yet die we must.