To be in love, where scorn is bought with groans; coy looks, with heart-sore sighs; one fading moment's mirth

How quickly nature falls into revolt When gold becomes her object! For this the foolish over-careful fathers Have broke their sleep with thoughts, their brains with care, Their bones with industry.

Ships are but boards, sailors but men; there be land-rats and water-rats, water-thieves and land-thieves, I mean pirates, and thenthere is the peril of waters, winds, and rocks.

Despair and die. The ghosts

Time shall unfold what plaited cunning hides: Who cover faults, at last shame them derides.

Women are as roses, whose fair flower, being once displayed, doth fall that very hour.

My thoughts are whirled like a potter's wheel; I know not where I am nor what I do.