Oh, injurious love, that respites me a life, whose very comfort is still a dying horror

Where the bee sucks, there suck I In the cow-slip's bell i lie There I couch when owls do cry

Most dangerous is that temptation that doth goad us on to sin in loving virtue.

Fill all thy bones with aches.

Ask me no reason why I love you; for though Love use Reason for his physician, he admits him not for his counsellor.

I am afeard there are few die well that die in battle, for how can they charitably dispose of anything when blood is their argument?

Swift as shadow, short as any dream