The summer's flower is to the summer sweet Though to itself it only live and die
I pray you, do not fall in love with me, for I am falser than vows made in wine.
O for a horse with wings!
What's done can't be undone.
You had measured how long a fool you were upon the ground.
Show me a mistress that is passing fair, what doth her beauty serve but as a note where I may read who pass'd that passing fair?