Golden lads and girls all must as chimney sweepers come to dust.

“April hath put a spirit of youth in everything. (Sonnet XCVIII)”

“Et tu, Brute?”

“Why, why is this?Think'st thou I'ld make a lie of jealousy,To follow still the …”

“But then I sigh, with a piece of ScriptureTell them that God bids us to do evil…”