Do not swear by the moon, for she changes constantly. Then your love would also change.

A violet in the youth of primy nature, Forward, not permanent--sweet, not lasting; The perfume and suppliance of a minute; No more.

She is mine own, And I as rich in having such a jewel As twenty seas, if all their sand were pearl, The water nectar, and the rocks pure gold.

O, train me not, sweet mermaid, with thy note, to drown me in thy sister’s flood of tears.

The first thing we do, let's kill all the lawyers.

I can again thy former light restore, Should I repent me: but once put out thy light, Thou cunning'st pattern of excelling nature, I know not where is that Promethean heat That can thy light relume.

There was a star danced, and under that was I born.