Death, a necessary end, will come when it will come.

Confusion now hath made his masterpiece.

My brain I'll prove the female to my soul; my soul the father: and these two beget a generation of still-breeding thoughts, and these same thoughts people this little world.

She gave me for my pains a world of sighs.

His life was gentle and the elements So mixed in him that nature might stand up.

Doubt thou the stars are fire Doubt thou the sun doth moveDoubt truth to be a liar But never doubt I love.