n sooth, I know not why I am so sad:It wearies me; you say it wearies you;But how I caught it, found it, or came by it,What stuff ’tis made of, whereof it is born,I...

What is a man, if his chief good and market of his time be but to sleep and feed? a beast, no more. Sure he that made us with such large discourse, looking before and...

Alas, our frailty is the cause, not we: For such as we are made of, such we be