'Tis better to bear the ills we have than fly to others that we know not of.
Why, who cries out on pride that can therein tax any private party? Doth it not flow as hugely as the sea till the weary very means do ebb?
When lenity and cruelty play for a kingdom, the gentler gamester is the soonest winner
The fringed curtains of thine eye advance, And say what thou seest yond.
They that touch pitch will be defiled.
In thy youth wast as true a lover, As ever sighed upon a midnight pillow