“O, swear not by the moon, th’ inconstant moon,That monthly changes in her circle orb,Lest that thy love prove likewise variable.”

“Do not swear by the moon, for she changes constantly. then your love would also change.”

“She never told her love, but let concealment, like a worm 'i th' bud, feed on her damask cheek. She pinned in thought; and, with a green and yellow melancholy, she sat like Patience on a monument, smiling at grief. Was not this love indeed? We men may say more, swear more; but indeed our shows are more than will; for we still prove much in our vows but little in our love.”

“Love is too young to know what conscience is,  Yet who knows not conscience is born of love?  Then, gentle cheater, urge not my amiss,  Lest guilty of my faults thy sweet self prove:  For, thou betraying me, I do betray  My nobler part to my gross body's treason;  My soul doth tell my body that he may  Triumph in love; flesh stays no farther reason,  But rising at thy name doth point out thee,  As his triumphant prize. Proud of this pride,  He is contented thy poor drudge to be,  To stand in thy affairs, fall by thy side.    No want of conscience hold it that I call    Her 'love,' for whose dear love I rise and fall.”

“The moon's an arrant thief, And her pale fire she snatches from the sun.”

“O my love, my wife!Death, that hath suck'd the honey of thy breathHath had no power yet upon thy beauty.”

“The crown o' the earth doth melt. My lord!O, wither'd is the garland of the war,The soldier's pole is fall'n: young boys and girlsAre level now with men; the odds is gone,And there is nothing left remarkableBeneath the visiting moon.”