I pray thee cease thy counsel Which falls into mine ears as profitless as water in a sieve.
Ask for me to-morrow, and you 95 shall find me a grave man.
Hours dreadful and things strange, but this sore night Hath trifled former knowings.
Alack, sir, no; her passions are made of nothing but the finest part of pure love. We cannot call her winds and waters sighs and tears; they are greater storms and tempests than almanacs can report: this cannot be cunning in her; if it be, she makes a shower of rain as well as Jove.
She must change for youth: when she is sated with his body, she will find the error of her choice: she must have change, she must: therefore put money in thy purse.—If thou wilt needs damn thyself, do it a more delicate way than drowning. Make all the money thou canst.
Knock... and ask your heart what it doth know.