Time, whose millioned accidents creep in betwixt vows, and change decrees of kings, tan sacred beauty, blunt the sharpest intents, divert strong minds to the course of altering things.

I have lov'd her ever since I saw her; and still I see her beautiful

Graze on my lips; and if those hills be dry, stray lower, where the pleasant fountains lie.

Dissembling courtesy! How fine this tyrant can trickle when she wounds!

Falsehood falsehood cures

The lunatic, the lover, and the poet, are of imagination all compact.

Bait the hook well. This fish will bite.