Thus can the demigod Authority Make us pay down for our offense by weight The words of heaven; on whom it will, it will, On whom it will not, so: yet still 'tis just.
There is little choice in a barrel of rotten apples.
By heaven, I do love: and it hath taught me to rhyme, and to be mekancholy.
The world is grown so bad, That wrens make prey where eagles dare not perch.
Life is as tedious as twice-told tale, vexing the dull ear of a drowsy man.
She's gone. I am abused, and my relief must be to loathe her.