This is the monstrosity in love, lady, that the will is infinite and the execution confined; that the desire is boundless, and the act a slave to limit.
We waste our lights in vain, like lamps by day.
Tis not enough to help the feeble up, but to support them after.
Come, woo me, woo me, for now I am in a holiday humor, and like enough to consent.
Suspicion, Discontent, and Strife, Come in for Dowrie with a Wife.
Insensible of mortality, and desperately mortal.
Women's gentle brain Could not drop forth such giant rude invention
A plague o' both your houses.
The mountain was in labour, and Jove was afraid, but it brought forth a mouse.
See, your guests approach. Address yourself to entertain them sprightly, And let's be red with mirth.
O, let my books be then the eloquence and dumb presages of my speaking breast.
A kind Of excellent dumb discourse.
I find my zenith doth depend upon A most auspicious star, whose influence If now I court not, but omit, my fortunes Will ever after droop.
They are all but stomachs, and we all but food; They eat us hungerly, and when they are full, They belch us
The devil can cite Scripture for his purpose.