Downy sleep, death's counterfeit.
A harmless necessary cat.
The web of our life is of a mingled yarn, good and ill together.
Virtue itself turns vice, being misapplied, And vice sometime by action dignified.
No profit grows where no pleasure is taken.
He is the half part of a blessed man, Left to be finished by such as she; And she a fair divided excellence, Whose fullness of perfection lies in him.