O, swear not by the moon, the fickle moon, the inconstant moon, that monthly changes in her circle orb, Lest that thy love prove likewise variable
Let me be ignorant, and in nothing good, but graciously to know I am no better.
Barnes are blessings.
What, man, defy the devil. Consider, he's an enemy to mankind.
Praising what is lost makes the remembrance dear
Oh God! that one might read the book of fate, And see the revolution of the times Make mountains level, and the continent, Weary of solid firmness, melt itself Into the sea.