Death makes no conquest of this conqueror: For now he lives in fame, though not in life.
To England will I steal, and there I'll steal.
I like this place and could willingly waste my time in it.
Not from the stars do I my judgement pluck, And yet methinks I have astronomy. But not to tell of good or evil luck, Of plagues, of dearths, or season's quality; Nor can I fortune to brief minutes tell ... Or say with princes if it shall go well.
Our wills and fates do so contrary run.
Greatest scandal waits on greatest state.