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.

All that glisters is not gold; Often have you heard that told: Many a man his life hath sold But my outside to behold: Gilded tombs do worms enfold.

Night's candles have burned out, and jocund day stands tiptoe on the misty mountaintops." Hope tinged with melancholy - like life.

What's done is done. The joy is in the doing.

Then others for breath of words respect, Me for my dumb thoughts, speaking in effect.

My love's more richer than my tongue.

A woman is a dish for the gods, if the devil dress her not.