A good leg will fall; a straight back will stoop; a black beard will turn white; a curl'd pate will grow bald; a fair face will wither; a full eye will wax hollow: but a good heart, Kate, is the sun and the moon; or, rather, the sun, and not the moon, — for it shines bright, and never changes, but keeps his course truly.

Beggar that I am, I am even poor in thanks, but I thank you; and sure, dear friends, my thanks are too dear a halfpenny.

I say, without characters, fame lives long.

These violent delights have violent ends And in their triump die, like fire and powder Which, as they kiss, consume

O King, believe not this hard-hearted man!

All fancy-sick she is and pale of cheer, with sighs of love, that costs the fresh blood dear.

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