Glory grows guilty of detested crimes.

Do not swear by the moon, for she changes constantly. Then your love would also change.

I have no way and therefore want no eyes I stumbled when I saw. Full oft 'tis seen our means secure us, and our mere defects prove our commodities.

Making night hideous.

Thine eyes I love, and they as pitying me, Knowing thy heart torment me with disdain, Have put on black, and loving mourners be, Looking with pretty ruth upon my pain.

As there comes light from heaven and words from breath, As there is sense in truth and truth in virtue

I am the Prince of Wales; and think not, Percy, To share with me in glory any more: Two stars keep not their motion in one sphere.