Four days will quickly steep themselves in nights; Four nights will quickly dream away the time; And then the moon, like to a silver bow new bent in heaven, shall behold the night of our solemnities.

Honour travels in a strait so narrow Where one but goes abreast.

The blood of youth burns not with such excess as gravity's revolt to wantonness.

I feel it gone, yet know not when it left.

Things without all remedy should be without regard: what's done is done.

I was not born under a rhyming planet, nor I cannot woo to in festival terms.

She will die if you love her not, And she will die ere she might make her love known