Since brass, nor stone, nor earth, nor boundless sea, But sad mortality o'ersways their power, How with this rage shall beauty hold a plea, Whose action is no stronger than a flower? O how shall summer's honey breath hold out Against the wrackful siege of batt'ring days, When rocks impregnable are not so stout, Nor gates of steel so strong but time decays? O fearful meditation, where alack, Shall Time's best jewel from Time's chest lie hid? Or what strong hand can hold his swift foot back, Or who his spoil of beauty can forbid?
The grey-eyed morn smiles on the frowning night, Checkering the eastern clouds with streaks of light.
This most excellent canopy, the air, look you, this brave o'erhanging firmament, this majestical roof fretted with golden fire, why, it appeareth nothing to me but a foul and pestilent congregation of vapours.
The heavens themselves, the planets, and this center Observe degree, priority, and place, Insisture, course, proportion, season, form, Office, and custom, in all line of order.
Age cannot wither her, nor custom stale Her infinite variety. Other women cloy The appetites they feed, but she makes hungry Where most she satisfies.
I would there were no age between ten and three-and-twenty, or that youth would sleep out the rest; for there is nothing in the between but getting wenches with child, wronging the ancientry, stealing, fighting.
It shall be said his judgment ruled our hands. Our youths and wildness shall no whit appear, But all be buried in his gravity.
You have both said well, And on the cause and question now in hand Have glozed, but superficially—not much Unlike young men whom Aristotle thought Unfit to hear moral philosophy.
O, he is as tedious As a tired horse, a railing wife, Worse than a smoky house.
On her left breast A mole cinque-spotted, like the crimson drops I' th' bottom of a cowslip.