| To His Coy Mistress, Lines 10-12 | My vegetable love should grow/Vaster than empires and more slow |
| To His Coy Mistress,18-19 | For, lady, you deserve this state,/Nor would I love at lower rate./But at my back I always hear/Time’s wingèd chariot hurrying near; |
| To His Coy Mistress, lines 31-32 | The grave’s a fine and private place,/But none, I think, do there embrace. |
| The Flea, stanza 1, lines 2-4 | How little that which thou deniest me is;/It sucked me first, and now sucks thee,/And in this flea our two bloods mingled be; |
| The Flea, stanza 2, lines 8-11 | Though use make you apt to kill me,/Let not to that, self-murder added be,/And sacrilege, three sins in killing three. |
| The Flea stanza 3, opening lines | Cruel and sudden, hast thou since/Purpled thy nail, in blood of innocence?/… |
| The Flea, stanza 3, closing lines | Just so much honor, when thou yield’st to me,/Will waste, as this flea’s death took life from thee. |
| The Flea, Stanza 3, line 7 | Find’st not thy self, nor me the weaker now;/’Tis true; then learn how false, fears be: |
