Cover her face; mine eyes dazzle: she died young. - John Webster

Prosperity doth bewitch men, seeming clear;
But seas do laugh, show white, when rocks are near.

Of what is't fools make such vain keeping?
Sin their conception, their birth, weeping:
Their life, a general mist of error,
Their death, a hideous storm of terror.

'T is just like a summer bird-cage in a garden,—the birds that are without despair to get in, and the birds that are within despair and are in a consumption for fear they shall never get out.