Were all the letters sun, I could not see one.

Make not your thoughts your prisons.

Thou shalt be free As mountain winds: but then exactly do All points of my command.

Since mine own doors refuse to entertain me, I'll knock elsewhere, to see if they'll disdain me

So shalt thou feed on Death, that feeds on men.

Speak what we feel, not what we ought to say.

Could beauty, my lord, have better commerce than with honesty?