I kissed thee ere I killed thee. No way but this, Killing myself, to die upon a kiss.
Things may serve long, but not serve ever.
In maiden meditation, fancy free.
O for a Muse of fire, that would ascend The brightest heaven of invention, A kingdom for a stage, princes to act And monarchs to behold the swelling scene!
Do not spread the compost on the weeds.
I have lived long enough. My way of life is to fall into the sere, the yellow leaf, and that which should accompany old age, as honor, love, obedience, troops of friends I must not look to have.