Out of this nettle - danger - we pluck this flower - safety.
Mine honour is my life; both grow in one; Take honour from me, and my life is done.
The art of our necessities is strange That can make vile things precious.
In thy youth wast as true a lover, As ever sighed upon a midnight pillow
It is the cowish terror of his spirit that dares not undertake; he'll not feel wrongs which tie him to an answer.
Lilies that fester smell far worse than weeds.