Yet call not this long life; but think that IAm, by being dead, immortal; can ghosts die?

All our life is but a going out to the place of execution, to death

For God's sake hold your tongue, and let me love.

No man is an island, entire of itself; every man is a piece of the continent.

...but come bad chance
And wee joyne to it our strength
And wee teach it art and length
It selfe o'er us to advance.

Despair is the damp of hell, as joy is the serenity of heaven