There's place and means for every man alive.

Heaven give you many, many merry days.

I like not fair terms and a villain's mind.

I care not, a man can die but once; we owe God and death.

And too soon Marred are those so early Made.

Arise, fair sun, and kill the envious moon, Who is already sick and pale with grief That thou, her maid, art far more fair than she. . . .

Some rise by sin, and some by virtue fall.