Why should you think that I should woo in scorn? Scorn and derision never come in tears: Look, when I vow, I weep; and vows so born, In their nativity all truth appears. How can these things in me seem scorn to you, Bearing the badge of faith, to prove them true?

We are such stuff as dreams are made on; and our little life is rounded with a sleep.

Shall remain! Hear you this Triton of the minnows? Mark you His absolute 'shall'?

The daintiest last, to make the end most sweet.

We that are true lovers run into strange capers; but as all is mortal in nature, so is all nature in love mortal in folly.

Now I am past all comforts here, but prayer.

O, grief hath changed me since you saw me last, And careful hours with Time's deformed hand Have written strange defeatures in my face. But tell me yet, dost thou not know my voice?