Hang him, swaggering rascal!

The jury passing on the prisoner's life may in the sworn twelve have a thief or two guiltier than him they try.

My stars shine darkly over me

Who buys a minute's mirth to wail a week? Or sell eternity to get a toy? For one grape who will the vine destroy?

...and then, in dreaming, / The clouds methought would open and show riches / Ready to drop upon me, that when I waked / I cried to dream again.

How art thou out of breath when thou hast breath To say to me that thou art out of breath?

It is thyself, mine own self's better part; Mine eye's clear eye, my dear heart's dearer heart; My food, my fortune, and my sweet hope's aim, My sole earth's heaven, and my heaven's claim.