I was not born under a rhyming planet, nor I cannot woo to in festival terms.

If I for my opinion bleed, opinion shall be surgeon to my hurt, and keep me on the side where still I am.

Passion lends them power, time means to meet, tempering extremities with extremes sweet.

Like a barber's chair that fits all buttocks.

To hold, as 't were, the mirror up to nature.

O powerful love, that in some respects makes a beast a man, in some other, a man a beast.

For precious friends hid in death's dateless night.