God mark thee to His grace! Thou was the prettiest babe that e'er I nursed. And might I live to see thee married once, I have my wish.

Now see that noble and most sovereign reason, Like sweet bells jangled, out of tune and harsh.

I am bewitched with the rogue's company. If the rascal have not given me medicines to make me love him, I'll be hanged.

And blind oblivion swallowed cities up.

Now the melancholy of God protect thee, and the tailor make thy doublet of changable taffata, for thy mind is a very opal. I would have men of such constancy put to sea, that their business might be everything, and their intent everywhere, for that's it, that always makes a good voyage of nothing.

I'll make my heaven in a lady's lap

A man should be what he seems.