Love moderately; long love doth so; too swift arrives as tardy as too slow.
It is the stars, The stars above us, govern our conditions.
Look to her, Moor, if thou has eyes to see. She has deceived her father, and may thee.
For many men that stumble at the threshold are well foretold that danger lurks within.
What showers arise, blown with the windy tempest of my heart
Uneasy lies the head that wears a crown.