The fringed curtains of thine eye advance, And say what thou seest yond.

That man that hath a tongue, I say is no man, if with his tongue he cannot win a woman.

Lady, you are the cruel'st she alive If you will lead these graces to the grave And leave the world no copy.

In time the savage bull doth bear the yoke.

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

A dream itself is but a shadow.

There was never yet philosopher that could endure the toothache patiently