How poor are they that have not patience! What wound did ever heal but by degrees?

I was born free as Caesar; so were you

Nor age so eat up my invention.

Rumour doth double, like the voice and echo, The numbers of the feared.

I wasted time, and now doth time waste me; For now hath time made me his numbering clock: My thoughts are minutes; and with sighs they jar Their watches on unto mine eyes, the outward watch, Whereto my finger, like a dial's point, Is pointing still, in cleansing them from tears. Now sir, the sound that tells what hour it is Are clamorous goans, which strike upon my heart, Which is the bell: so sighs and tears and groans Show minutes, times, and hours.

Good counselors lack no clients.

O, speak again, bright angel! for thou art As glorious to this night, being o'er my head As is a winged messenger of heaven