For night's swift dragons cut the clouds full fast, And yonder shines Aurora's harbinger; At whose approach ghosts wandring here and there Troop home to church-yards.... For fear lest day should look their shames upon, They willfully exile themselves from light, And must for aye consort with black brow'd night.

Every inordinate cup is unbless'd, and the ingredient is a devil.

O, she misused me past the endurance of a block.

Love is my sin, and thy dear virtue hate, Hate of my sin, grounded on sinful loving.

Never, never, never, never, never! Pray you, undo this button.

Dost thou think, because thou art virtuous, there shall be no more cakes and ale?

In nature there's no blemish but the mind. None can be called deformed but the unkind.