A king of infinite space

Oh, injurious love, that respites me a life, whose very comfort is still a dying horror

Excellent wretch! Perdition catch my soul But I do love thee! and when I love thee not, Chaos is come again.

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

Obey thy parents, keep thy word justly; swear not; commit not with man's sworn spouse; set not thy sweet heart on proud array. * * * Keep thy foot out of brothels, thy pen from lenders' books.

The words of Mercury are harsh after the songs of Apollo.

Oh what fools we mortals are.