Thus die I, thus, thus, thus. Now am I dead, Now am I fled; My soul is in the sky: Tongue, lose thy light; Moon take thy flight. Now die, die, die, die, die.

It is in pardoning that we are pardoned.

Fortune brings in some boats that are not steered.

Some smack of age in you, some relish of the saltness of time.

Let the sap of reason quench the fire of passion.

Sweets to the sweet.

I dreamt my lady came and found me dead . . . . . . . . . . . . And breathed such life with kisses in my lips That I revived and was an emperor.