“Be thine own palace, or the world's thy jail.”

“No man is an island, entire of itself; every man is a piece of the continent, a part of the main. If a clod be washed away by the sea, Europe is the less, as well as if a promontory were, as well as if a manor of thy friend's or of thine own were: any man's death diminishes me, because I am involved in mankind, and therefore never send to know for whom the bells tolls; it tolls for thee.”

“I fix mine eye on thine, and therePity my picture burning in thine eye...”

“Busie olde foole, unruly Sunne; Why dost thou thus,Through windowes, and through curtaines call on us?Must to they motions lovers seasons run? Sawcy pedantique wretch, goe chide Late schoole boyes, and sowre prentices, Goe tell Court-huntsmen, that the King will ride, Call countrey ands to harvest offices;Love, all alike, no season knows, nor clyme,Nor houres, dayes, months, which are the rags of time. Thy beames, so reverend, and strong Why shouldst thou thinke?I could eclipse and cloud them with a winke,But that I would not lose her sight so long: If her eyes have not blinded thine Looke, and tomorrow late, tell mee, Whether both the India's of spice and Myne Be where thou leftst them, or lie here with mee.Aske for those Kings whom thou saw'st yesterday,And thou shalt heare, All here in one bed lay. She'is all States, and all Princes, I, Nothing else is; Princes doe but play us; compar'd to this,All honor's mimique; All wealth alchimie, Thou sunne art halfe as happy'as wee, In that the world's contracted thus; Thine ages askes ease, and since thy duties bee To warme the world, that's done in warming us.Shine here to us, and thou art every where;This bed thy center is, these walls, thy spheare.”

“Thy sins and hairs may no man equal call,for as thy sins increase, thy hairs do fall.”

“A bride, before a "Good-night" could be said,Should vanish from her clothes into her bed,As souls from bodies steal, and are not spied.But now she's laid; what though she be?Yet there are more delays, for where is he?He comes and passeth through sphere after sphere;First her sheets, then her arms, then anywhere.Let not this day, then, but this night be thine;Thy day was but the eve to this, O Valentine.”

“Let not thy divining heartForethink me any ill;Destiny may take thy part,And may thy fears fulfill.”