Quote: What angel wakes me from my flowery bed?
Doubt thou the stars are fire; Doubt that the sun doth move; Doubt truth to be a liar; But never doubt I love.
Let me not live, after my flame lacks oil, to be the snuff of younger spirits.
O, I do not like that paying back, 'tis a double labor.
Awake, awake, English nobility! Let not sloth dim your horrors new-begot.
The love that follows us sometime is our trouble, which still we thank as love.