Come, Lady, die to live.

Past and to come, seems best; things present, worse.

Let me not to the marriage of true minds

Happy thou art not; for what thou hast not, still thou strivest to get; and what thou hast, forgettest.

These violent delights have violent ends And in their triump die, like fire and powder Which, as they kiss, consume

Thou shalt not stir one foot to seek a foe.

When devils will the blackest sins put on They do suggest at first with heavenly shows