Let thy love be younger than thyself,
Or thy affection cannot hold the bent;
For women are as roses whose fair flow´r
Being once display´d, doth fall that very hour.
As flies to wanton boys are we to th´gods,
They kill us for their sport.
Good night, good night. Parting is such sweet sorrow,
that I shall say "good night" till it be morrow.
(Romeo and Juliet)
Every subject´s duty is the King´s, but every subject´s
soul is his own.