O Death, made proud with pure and princely beauty!

They do not abuse the king that flatter him. For flattery is the bellows blows up sin; The thing the which is flattered, but a spark To which that blast gives heat and stronger glowing.

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.

For who so firm that cannot be seduced?

Time ... thou ceaseless lackey to eternity.

I take thee at thy word: Call me but love, and I'll be new baptized; Henceforth I never will be Romeo.

I love thee, I love thee with a love that shall not die. Till the sun grows cold and the stars grow old.