Blow, winds, and crack your cheeks! rage! blow!

I am very proud, revengeful,
ambitious, with more offences at my beck than I have
thoughts to put them in, imagination to give them shape,
or time to act them in.

Men in rage strike those that wish them best.

Daffodils that come before the swallow dares, and takes the winds of March with beauty.

By heaven, I'll make a ghost of him that lets me.

Beauty’s ensign yetIs crimson in thy lips and in thy cheeks,And death’s pale flag is not advanced there.