one pain is cured by another. catch some new infection in your eye and the poison of the old one would die.

I hate the murderer, love him murdered.

No, Time, thou shalt not boast that I do change.

in black ink my love may still shine bright.

Have patience, and endure

I dreamt my lady came and found me dead . . . . . . . . . . . . And breathed such life with kisses in my lips That I revived and was an emperor.

A pox o’ your throat, you bawling, blasphemous, incharitable dog!