Diseases desperate grown By desperate appliances are relieved, Or not at all.

If I were a woman I would kiss as many of you as had beards that pleased me, complexions that liked me and breaths that I defied not

This most excellent canopy, the air, look you, this brave o-erhanging firmament, this majestical roof fretted with golden fire.

And send him many years of sunshine days!

Why, thou owest god a death.

For in my youth I never did apply Hot and rebellious liquors in my blood.

That time of year thou mayst in me behold When yellow leaves, or none, or few, do hang Upon those boughs which shake against the cold, Bare ruin'd choirs, where late the sweet birds sang. In me thou seest the twilight of such day, As after sunset fadeth in the west, Which by-and-by black night doth take away.