Absence from those we love is self from self - a deadly banishment.
Give me my robe, put on my crown
As flies to wanton boys, are we to the gods
Like as the waves make towards the pebbl'd shore, so do our minutes, hasten to their end.
I never see thy face but I think upon hell-fire.
It is a wise father that knows his own child.
Such as we are made of, such we be.
Go to you bosom: Knock there, and ask your heart what it doth know.
Hell is empty and all the devils are here.
How sharper than a serpent's tooth it is to have a thankless child!
Praise us as we are tasted, allow us as we prove.
Love is too young to know what conscience is.