Every thing that grows / Holds in perfection but a little moment.
'Tis brief, my lord...as woman's love.
In such business Action is eloquence, and the eyes of th’ ignorant More learned than the ears.
Time goes on crutches till love have all his rites.
The will of man is by his reason sway'd.
Lovers and madmen have such seething brains Such shaping fantasies, that apprehend More than cool reason ever comprehends.