The breaking of so great a thing should make A greater crack: the round world Should have shook lions into civil streets, And citizens to their dens.

Doubt thou the stars are fire; Doubt that the sun doth move; Doubt truth to be a liar; But never doubt I love.

Light and lust are deadly enemies.

All days are nights to see till I see thee, And nights bright days when dreams do show thee me.

He's a soldier; and for one to say a soldier lies, is stabbing.

I do know when the blood burns, how prodigal the soul lends the tongue vows.

Yet do I fear thy nature; It is too full o' the milk of human kindness To catch the nearest way: thou wouldst be great; Art not without ambition, but without The illness should attend it: what thou wouldst highly, That wouldst thou holily; wouldst not play false, And yet wouldst wrongly win.