Love looks not with the eyes, but with the mind, And therefore is winged Cupid painted blind.
Modest wisdom plucks me from over-credulous haste.
Knowing I lov'd my books, he furnish'd me From mine own library with volumes that I prize above my dukedom.
This fell sergeant, Death, Is strict in his arrest.
For mine own part, it was Greek to me.
Ignorance is the curse of God; knowledge is the wing wherewith we fly to heaven.