And where two raging fires meet together, they do consume the thing that feeds their fury.
O, let not virtue seek Remuneration for the thing it was; For beauty, wit, High birth, vigour of bone, desert in service, Love, friendship, charity, are subjects all To envious and calumniating time.
This world's a city full of straying streets, and death's the market-place where each one meets.
Sit down awhile; And let us once again assail your ears, That are so fortified against our story What we have two nights seen.
A good sherris-sack hath a twofold operation in it. It ascends me into the brain, dries me there all the foolish and dull and crudy vapors which environ it, makes it apprehensive, quick, forgetive, full of nimble, fiery, and delectable shapes, which, delivered o'er to the voice, the tongue, which is the birth, becomes excellent wit.
O honorable strumpet.
The gods are fair, and they use our little vices to punish us.
If you can look into the seeds of time (60) And say which grain will grow and which will not, Speak, then, to me, who neither beg nor fear Your favors nor your hate.
Oh, that this too, too sullied flesh would melt, Thaw, and resolve itself into a dew, Or that the Everlasting had not fixed. His canon 'gainst self-slaughter!