Then hate me when thou wilt, if ever, now.

Every thing that grows / Holds in perfection but a little moment.

Give them great meals of beef and iron and steel, they will eat like wolves and fight like devils.

Let men say we be men of good government, being governed, as the sea is, by our noble and chaste mistress the moon, under whose countenance we steal.

Arise, fair sun, and kill the envious moon, Who is already sick and pale with grief That thou, her maid, art far more fair than she. . . .

I have pursued her, as love hath pursued me

There's nothing ill can dwell in such a temple. If the ill spirit have so fair a house, Good things will strive to dwell with't