Like a barber's chair that fits all buttocks.

Thou seest I have more flesh than another man, and therefore more frailty.

There's little of the melancholy element in her, my lord: she is never sad but when she sleeps; and not ever sad then; for I have heard my daughter say, she hath often dreamt of unhappiness, and waked herself with laughing.

We are time's subjects, and time bids be gone.

Thine eyes I love, and they as pitying me, Knowing thy heart torment me with disdain, Have put on black, and loving mourners be, Looking with pretty ruth upon my pain.

We all are men, in our own natures frail, and capable of our flesh; few are angels.

Well, I must be patient; there is no fettering of authority.