Quote: What angel wakes me from my flowery bed?

Haply for I am black, And have not those soft parts of conversation That chamberers have; or for I am declined Into the vale of years—yet that’s not much— She’s gone. I am abused, and my relief Must be to loathe her. O curse of marriage, That we can call these delicate creatures ours And not their appetites! I had rather be a toad And live upon the vapor of a dungeon Than keep a corner in the thing I love For others’ uses. Yet ’tis the plague of great ones; Prerogatived are they less than the base. ’Tis destiny unshunnable, like death.

thus with a kiss I die

Glendower: I can call the spirits from the vasty deep. Hotspur: Why, so can I, or so can any man; But will they come, when you do call for them?

Full of wise saws and modern instances.

There's rosemary and rue. These keep Seeming and savor all the winter long. Grace and remembrance be to you.

When holy and devout religious men are at their beads, 'tis hard to draw them thence; so sweet is zealous contemplation.