O love, be moderate, allay thy ecstasy, In measure rain thy joy, scant this excess!

Swift as shadow, short as any dream

The breaking of so great a thing should make A greater crack: the round world Should have shook lions into civil streets, And citizens to their dens.

Our fancies are more giddy and unfirm, more longing, wavering, sooner lost and won, than women's are.

I see, sir, you are liberal in offers. You taught me first to beg, and now methinks You teach me how a beggar should be answered.

I have touch'd the highest point of all my greatness, And from that full meridian of my glory I haste now to my setting.

Cowards die many times; a brave man dies but once.