There is a tide in the affairs of men

Is it possible that love should of a sudden take such a hold?

Have more than thou showest, Speak less than thou knowest, Lend less than thou owest.

Sweet love! Sweet lines! Sweet life! Here is her hand, the agent of her heart; Here is her oath for love, her honour's pawn

If this were played upon a stage now, I could condemn it as an improbable fiction.

Help, master, help! here's a fish hangs in the net, like a poor man's right in the law; 'twill hardly come out.

Sycorax has grown into a hoop