There lives within the very flame of love A kind of wick or snuff that will abate it.
Tis our fast intent To shake all cares and business from our age, Conferring them on younger strengths, while we Unburdened crawl toward death.
If love be blind, love cannot hit the mark
Grief makes one hour ten.
Lechery, lechery; still, wars and lechery: nothing else holds fashion.
To fear the worst oft cures the worst.