Graze on my lips, and if those hills be dry, stray lower where the pleasant fountains lie.

Time's the king of men; he's both their parent, and he is their grave, and gives them what he will, not what they crave.

I dote on his very absence.

Put rancors in the vessel of my peace (70) Only for them; and mine eternal jewel.

Cowards die many times before their deaths. The valiant never taste of death but once.

You have dancing shoes with nimble soles. I have a soul of lead.

The will of man is by his reason sway'd.