Put forth thy hand, reach at the glorious gold.
Blessed are the peacemakers on earth.
Come, woo me, woo me, for now I am in a holiday humor, and like enough to consent.
Adversity makes strange bedfellows.
Self-love, my liege, is not so vile a sin, as self-neglecting.
Beauty's a doubtful good, a glass, a flower, Lost, faded, broken, dead within an hour; And beauty, blemish'd once, for ever's lost, In spite of physic, painting, pain, and cost.