Love is Natures second sun.

Blood, though it sleep a time, yet never dies. The gods on murtherers fix revengeful eyes.

Each natural agent works but to this end,- To render that it works on like itself.

Archers ever Have two strings to bow; and shall great Cupid (Archer of archers both in men and women), Be worse provided than a common archer?

For one heat, all know, doth drive out another, One passion doth expel another still.

Flatterers look like friends, as wolves like dogs.

Tis immortality to die aspiring, As if a man were taken quick to heaven.