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Much like to the mole in Æsopes fable, that, being blynd her selfe, would in no wise be perswaded that any beast could see.
Edmund Spenser, Edmund Spenser
All beasts are happy,
For, when they die,
Their souls are soon dissolv'd in elements;
But mine must live still to be plagu'd in hell.
Curs'd be the parents that engender'd me!
No, Faustus, curse thyself, curse Lucifer
That hath depriv'd thee of the joys of heaven.
Christopher Marlowe, Dr. Faustus
There did I finde mine onely faithfull frend
In heauy plight and sad perplexitie;
Whereof I sorie, yet my selfe did bend,
Him to recomfort with my companie.
Edmund Spenser, The Faerie Queene
Death, that hath suck'd the honey of thy breath hath had no power yet upon thy beauty.
William Shakespeare, Romeo and Juliet
His louely words her seemd due recompence
Of all her passed paines: one louing howre
For many yeares of sorrow can dispence:
A dram of sweete is worth a pound of sowre:
Shee has forgott, how many, a woeful stowre
For him she late endurd; she speakes no more
Of past . . .
Before her stands her knight, for whom she toyld so sore.
Edmund Spenser, The Faerie Queene
Where both deliberate, the love is slight; Who ever loved, that loved not at first sight?
Christopher Marlowe
It is the mynd, that maketh good or ill,
That maketh wretch or happie, rich or poore:
For some, that hath abundance at his will,
Hath not enough, but wants in greatest store
Edmund Spenser, The Faerie Queene
Thou mad mustachio purple-hued maltworms!
William Shakespeare