Then come kiss me, sweet and twenty.

Oh, she doth teach the torches to burn bright! It seems she hangs upon the cheek of night Like a rich jewel in an Ethiope’s ear, Beauty too rich for use, for earth too dear. So shows a snowy dove trooping with crows As yonder lady o'er her fellows shows. The measure done, I’ll watch her place of stand, And, touching hers, make blessèd my rude hand. Did my heart love till now? Forswear it, sight! For I ne'er saw true beauty till this night.

Ay, Much is the force of heaven-bred poesy.

I am very proud, revengeful, ambitious, with more offences at my beck than I have thoughts to put them in, imagination to give them shape, or time to act them in.

Here I and sorrows sit; Here is my throne, bid kings come bow to it.

Wrong hath but wrong, and blame the due of blame.

Time ... thou ceaseless lackey to eternity.