My tongue will tell the anger of my heart, or else my heart concealing it will break.

It is the stars, The stars above us, govern our conditions.

Fear no more the heat o' th' sun Nor the furious winters' rages; Thou thy worldly task hast done, Home art gone, and ta'en thy wages. Golden lads and girls all must, As chimney-sweepers, come to dust.

The prince of darkness is a gentleman!

As a decrepit father takes delight To see his active child do deeds of youth, So I, made lame by fortune's dearest spite, Take all my comfort of thy worth and truth.

Your face, my thane, is as a book where men May read strange matters. To beguile the time, Look like the time; bear welcome in your eye, Your hand, your tongue: look like the innocent flower, But be the serpent under't.

Let me have war, say I; it exceeds peace as far as day does night; it's spritely, waking, audible, and full of vent.