It is the stars, The stars above us, govern our conditions

It is the stars, The stars above us, govern our conditions.

The fault, dear Brutus, is not in our stars/ But in ourselves.

Antonio: Will you stay no longer? nor will you not that I go with you?
Sebastian: By your patience, no. My stars shine darkly over me; the malignancy of my fate might, perhaps, distemper yours; therefore I shall crave of you your leave that I may bear my evils alone. It were a bad recompense for your love to lay any of them on you.

All's well that ends well.

O, that he were here to write me down an ass! -Much Ado about Nothing. Act iv. Sc. 2.