Troilus and Cressida
O Cressida! but that the busy day,
Waked by the lark, hath roused the ribald crows,
And dreaming night will hide our joys no longer,
I would not from thee.
Night hath been too brief.
Beshrew the witch! with venomous wights she stays
As tediously as hell, but flies the grasps of love
With wings more momentary-swift than thought.
You will catch cold, and curse me.
You men will never tarry. (4.2.8-16)
Time, force, and death, Do to this body what extremes you can; But the strong base and building of my love Is as the very centre of the earth, Drawing all things to it. (4.2.101-105)
Injurious time now with a robber's haste Crams his rich thievery up, he knows not how: (4.4.43-44)