So are you to my thoughts as food to life, or as sweet seasoned showers are to the ground.
Thou shalt be free As mountain winds: but then exactly do All points of my command.
The moon's an arrant thief, And her pale fire she snatches from the sun.
My affection hath an unknown bottom, like the Bay of Portugal.
Gold--what can it not do, and undo?
Life is as tedious as twice-told tale, vexing the dull ear of a drowsy man.