What is light, if Sylvia be not seen? What is joy if Sylvia be not by?
A woman is a dish for the gods, if the devil dress her not.
But thought's the slave of life, and life time's fool.
World, world, O world! But that thy strange mutations make us hate thee/ Life would not yield to age.
Ay me! for aught that ever I could read, could ever hear by tale or history, the course of true love never did run smooth.
He shall spurn fate, scorn death, and bear His hopes 'bove wisdom, grace and fear: And you all know, security Is mortals' chiefest enemy.