Nature her custom holds, Let shame say what it will.

If one good deed in all my life I did, I do repent it from my very soul.

My purpose is, indeed, a horse of that color.

I am sir Oracle, and when I ope my lips, let no dog bark.

Men should be what they seem.

Who wooed in haste, and means to wed at leisure.

I stalk about her door, like a strange soul upon the Stygian banks staying for waftage.