Your worm is your only emperor for diet; we fat all creatures else to fat us, and we fat ourselves for maggots.
My affection hath an unknown bottom, like the Bay of Portugal.
Alas, how love can trifle with itself!
The sudden hand of Death close up mine eye!
A little fire is quickly trodden out, Which, being suffer'd, rivers cannot quench.
Virtue's office never breaks men's troth.