Beauty is bought by judgement of the eye.

Sweet recreation barred, what doth ensue but moody and dull melancholy, kinsman to grim and comfortless despair.

Some grief shows much of love, But much of grief shows still some want of wit.

I cannot speak your england.

Let those that play your clowns speak no more than is set down for them.

And she's fair I love.

Soft pity enters an iron gate.