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

Never durst poet touch a pen to write Until his ink were temper'd with Love's sighs.

Which means she to deceive, father or mother?

The fortune of us that are the moon's men doth ebb and flow like the sea, being governed, as the sea is, by the moon.

Let never day nor night unhallowed pass, but still remember what the Lord hath done.

The gaudy, blabbing, and remorseful day Is crept into the bosom of the sea.

He that has a house to put's head in has a good head-piece.