Be thine own palace, or the world's thy jail.
If ever any beauty I did see, Which I desired, and got, 'twas but a dream of thee.
Who are a little wise the best fools be.
Our critical day is not the very day of our death; but the whole course of our life.
Die not, poore death, nor yet canst thou kill me.
Busy old fool, unruly Sun, why dost thou thus through windows and through curtains call on us? Must to thy motions lovers seasons run?