The gloomy shade of death.

Let me embrace thee, sour adversity, for wise men say it is the wisest course.

Love like a shadow flies when substance love pursues Pursuing that that flies, and flying what pursues.

To be honest, as this world goes, is to be one man picked out of ten thousand.

Use every man after his desert, and who should scape whipping?

Friendship is full of dregs.

Ay me! for aught that I could ever read, Could ever hear by tale or history, The course of true love never did run smooth. But, either it was different in blood,- Or else it stood upon the choice of friends,- Or, if there were a sympathy in choice, War, death, or sickness did lay siege to it.