Her blood is settled, and her joints are stiff;
Life and these lips have long been separated:
Death lies on her like an untimely frost
Upon the sweetest flower of all the field.

“Tell me where is fancy bred,Or in the heart, or in the head?”

“If it be a sin to covet honor, I am the most offending soul.”

“Music to hear, why hear'st thou music sadly?”

“Do as the heavens have done, forget your evil;With them forgive yourself.”