Of one that lov'd not wisely but too well.

The world is not thy friend, nor the world's law. - Romeo

Yield not thy neck To fortunes yoke, but let thy dauntless mind Still ride in triumph over all mischance.

Should the poor be flattered? No; let the candied tongue lick absurd pomp, and crook the pregnant hinges of the knee where thrift may follow fawning.

What power is it which mounts my love so high, that makes me see, and cannot feed mine eye

A ministering angel shall my sister be.

Do not speak like a death's-head, do not bid me remember mine end.