I go, I go, look how I go, swifter than an arrow from a bow

Ne'er ask me what raiment I'll wear, for I have no more doublets than backs, no more stockings than legs, nor no more shoes than feet--nay, sometime more feet than shoes, or such shoes as my toes look through the overleather.

And oftentimes excusing of a fault doth make the fault the worse by the excuse.

I may command where I adore.

Things base and vile, holding no quantity, Love can transpose to form and dignity. Love looks not with the eyes, but with the mind, And therefore is winged Cupid painted blind. Nor hath Love's mind of any judgment taste; Wings and no eyes figure unheedy haste.

Why, what is pomp, rule, reign, but earth and dust? And, live we how we can, yet die we must.

The moon of Rome, chaste as the icicle that's curded by the frost from purest snow.