Men have died from time to time, and worms have eaten them, but not for love.
To be in love, where scorn is bought with groans; coy looks, with heart-sore sighs; one fading moment's mirth
Oh why rebuke you him that loves you so? / Lay breath so bitter on your bitter foe.
The world is grown so bad, That wrens make prey where eagles dare not perch.
Past all shame, so past all truth.
Were beauty under twenty locks kept fast, yet love breaks through and picks them all at last.