I pray you, do not fall in love with me, for I am falser than vows made in wine.

What a pretty thing man is when he goes in his doublet and hose and leaves off his wit!

A man in all the world's new fashion planted, That hath a mint of phrases in his brain.

I fill up a place, which may be better... when I have made it empty.

Nimble thought can jump both sea and land.

This thing of darkness I acknowlege mine. There is nothing more confining than the prison we don't know we are in.

Come away, come away, Death, And in sad cypress let me be laid; Fly away, fly away, breath, I am slain by a fair cruel maid. My shroud of white stuck all with yew, O prepare it! My part of death no one so true did share it. Not a flower, not a flower sweet, On my black coffin let there be strewn: Not a friend, not a friend greet My poor corpse, where my bones shall be thrown. A thousand thousand sighs to save, lay me O where Sad true lover never find my grave, to weep there!