But when I came, alas, to wive, With hey, ho, the wind and the rain, By swaggering could I never thrive, For the rain it raineth every day.

Devoutly to be wish'd. To die, to sleep; To sleep, perchance to dream—For in that sleep of death what dreams may come,When we have shuffled off this mortal coil, Must give us pause, there's the respect, That makes calamity of so long life

So we grew together like to a double cherry, seeming parted, but yet an union in partition, two lovely berries molded on one stem.

If I could write the beauty of your eyes And in fresh numbers number all your graces, The age to come would say, 'This poet lies; Such heavenly touches ne'er touch'd earthly faces.'

So quick bright things come to confusion.​​​​​​

A peace is of the nature of a conquest; for then both parties nobly are subdued, and neither party loser.

What I have done is yours; what I have to do is yours; being part in all I have, devoted yours.