No man is an island, entire of itself; every man is a piece of the continent.
All our life is but a going out to the place of execution, to death.
But think that we Are but turned aside to sleep.
How many times go we to comedies, to masques, to places of great and noble resort, nay even to church only to see the company.
Then love is sin, and let me sinful be.
Nature hath no goal though she hath law.