“Thou seest we are not all alone unhappy:This wide and universal theatrePresents more woeful pageants than the sceneWherein we play in.”

“The fringed curtains of thine eye advance,And say what thou seest yond.”

“Mark it, nuncle.Have more than thou showest,Speak less than thou knowest,Lend less than thou owest,Ride more than thou goest,Learn more than thou trowest,Set less than thou throwest,Leave thy drink and thy whoreAnd keep in-a-door,And thou shalt have moreThan two tens to a score.”

“Shall we their fond pageant see?Lord, what fools these mortals be!”

“Sometime we see a cloud that's dragonish,A vapor sometime like a bear or lion,A towered citadel, a pendant rock,A forked mountain, or blue promontoryWith trees upon't that nod unto the worldAnd mock our eyes with air. Thou hast seen thesesigns:They are black vesper's pageants.”

“Take all my loves, my love, yea, take them all,What hast thou then more than thou hadst before? No love, my love, that thou mayst true love call, All mine was thine, before thou hadst this more. Then if for my love thou my love receivest,I cannot blame thee for my love thou usest, But yet be blam’d, if thou this self deceivest By willful taste of what thyself refusest.”

“That time of year thou mayst in me beholdWhen yellow leaves, or none, or few, do hangUpon those boughs which shake against the cold,Bare ruin'd choirs, where late the sweet birds sang.In me thou seest the twilight of such dayAs after sunset fadeth in the west,Which by and by black night doth take away,Death's second self, that seals up all in rest.In me thou see'st the glowing of such fireThat on the ashes of his youth doth lie,As the death-bed whereon it must expireConsumed with that which it was nourish'd by.This thou perceivest, which makes thy love more strong,To love that well which thou must leave ere long.”