O Proserpina, For the flowers now, that frighted thou let'st fall From Dis's waggon! daffodils, That come before the swallow dares, and take The winds of March with beauty; violets dim, But sweeter than the lids of Juno's eyes Or Cytherea's breath; pale primroses, That die unmarried, ere they can behold Bright Phœbus in his strength,—a malady Most incident to maids; bold oxlips and The crown imperial; lilies of all kinds, The flower-de-luce being one. -The Winter's Tale. Act iv. Sc. 4.
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I charge thee, fling away ambition: By that sin fell the angels. -King Henry VIII. Act iii. Sc. 2.
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So curses all Eve's daughters, of what complexion soever. -The Merry Wives of Windsor. Act iv. Sc. 2.
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