We are time’s subjects, and time bids be gone.
We are not ourselves when nature, being oppressed, commands the mind to suffer with the body.
We all are men in our own natures frail, and capable of our flesh; few are angels.
War is no strife to the dark house and the detested wife.
Virginity is peevish, proud, idle, made of self-love, which is the most inhibited sin in the canon.
Under the greenwood tree who loves to lie with me, and turn his merry note unto the sweet bird’s throat, come hither, come hither, come hither, here shall he see no enemy but winter and rough weather.
Truth make all things plain.
Truly, I would not hang a dog by my will; much more a man, who hath any honesty in him.
Trifles light as air are to the jealous confirmations strong as proofs of Holy Writ.
Tomorrow, and tomorrow, and tomorrow creeps in this petty pace from day to day, to the last syllable of recorded time; and all our yesterdays have lighted fools the way to dusty death.
To weep is to make less the depth of grief.
To speak on the part of virginity is to accuse your mothers, which is most infallible disobedience.
