Earth-treading stars that make dark heaven light
When he shall die, Take him and cut him out in little stars, And he will make the face of heaven so fine That all the world will be in love with night And pay no worship to the garish sun.
The due of honor in no point omit.
I'll look to like; if looking, liking move.
A pox o’ your throat, you bawling, blasphemous, incharitable dog!
To gild refined gold, to paint the lily... is wasteful and ridiculous excess