Give thy thoughts no tongue, nor any unproportioned thought his act. Be thou familiar but by no means vulgar.

Death, that hath suck'd the honey of thy breath hath had no power yet upon thy beauty.

I bear a charmed life.

That if you be honest and fair, your honesty should admit no discourse to your beauty.

O! that a man might know The end of this day's business, ere it come; But it sufficeth that the day will end, And then the end is known.

Feed on her damask cheek: she pined in thought, And with a green and yellow melancholy She sat like patience on a monument, Smiling at grief

Avaunt, you cullions!